Tiny Cannibals Screaming In My Corner

There are people yeLLing and screaming in my bedroom.

I go in there but there are no people.

Just a box.

Sometimes there is music.

Sometimes there are gun shots.

In the night the box glows.

The box wants me to buy things, many things for $19.95 plus shipping and handling.

A man is semi-yeLLing at me in Spanish to "come buy a car from him", at a place where "there is no problem".

I like no problemas.

I know what he is saying in Spanish simply because he does the same yeLLing in English at other times.

I like no problemas but I like my current truck and he is just a tiny yeLLing bilingual flat man. I have touched the box while he is yeLLing and he feels flat and glassy. When I put my fingers on the screen to try to touch him he does not appear to be able to feel me. Why would I want to buy a car from a tiny yeLLing bilingual man who appears to be so insensitive?

I have noticed there is another larger shaped glowing box in here in the livingroom that has the same tiny little yeLLing bilingual insensitive car selling man sometimes in the middle of the night. But when the tiny man is inside that box he is bigger! Thats right, he has grown about 50 percent larger! Amazing. And scary.

Why would I want to buy a car from a tiny yeLLing bilingual insensitive man who can't control his size? He has grown fifty percent just in the distance of going the twenty feet between the bedroom and the livingroom. How large would he be 70 miles from here? What if I finaLLy give in to his demands and buy a car from him and when I go to where he lives in a giant box somewhere far away and he is reaLLy gigantic and he is hungry and then he eats me? Because who can trust a giant hungry yeLLing cannibalistic car salesmen, they are the worst kind.

Besides, I slept wrong last night and the left side of my neck is sore. My dog is hungry and there is no mesquite smoke flavored deli sliced turkey breast or sliced American cheese, his favorite things. So I should reaLLy go buy groceries before the dog eats me, instead of buying a car from a cannibal.

Ouch! I just tried to move again and the pain is severe. So it is just a race of pain between my current pain or the possible pain of being eaten alive by a dog. Decisions, decisions. I wonder if I taste like turkey and or cheese? My guess is someone would say, "chicken".

Oh, the horror! There is now a man on the box singing Johnny Cash's 'Folsom Prison Blues' very poorly at about 70 percent speed. That is more than enough incentive to escape this house, neck pain or no neck pain, to get the dog's food. Time to go to the groc store where their non-Johnny cash register glowing boxes only want money in eXchange for turkey and cheese, and where there usuaLLy is no problema.