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Fairytales for a Practical Princess - 2008-11-30
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11:03 a.m. - 2003-07-22
A HUGE storm whammed through here last night. It was scary. Mike and Wolf were at the new house and Alex had gone to the movies with a friend so I'd taken the opportunity to be a total slug and was resting my ouchie back and dozing. I have all the shades drawn in my room and the air conditioner is noisy, the first inkling I got that there was a storm brewing was a humongo crash of thunder and a simultaneous flash of lightning which went off directly over the house. BLAM! 15 seconds later the wind was ROARING and rain lashed the house so hard it sounded like hail. I jumped out of bed to secure things. I put my hand to the doorknob, there was another explosion, and the lights went out. I went out into the hall into what felt like a hurricane. The wind was ripping through the open windows. Curtains were tearing themselves loose. All the paper work on my desk was sailing toward me, even the office trash can was rolling along the floor like a tumbleweed. The power stuttered back on and I frantically tried to shut down the computer, digging my toes into the rug to keep from being blown over by the gale coming through the open window. I raced around upstairs and down slamming windows shut and righting things which had blown over. There was another explosion of lightning and the power went out for good. This is not a comfortable house to be stuck in alone during a wrath of God lightning storm. Picture every horror movie ever made. Huge old Victorian with creaky wood floors and rattling windows. Twisty turny staircases, dead end hallways, super high ceilings, mirrors everywhere reflecting back the flashes of lightning and throwing shadows. Shoot, during a storm like last night's Vincent Price would run screaming from this place. I was scared and totally creeped out. To make it just that much worse we'd taken the majority of candles over to the new house many moons back. We had been updating the electrical system so didn't have the power turned on there yet. Having candlelight picnics in our empty house was soooo romantic. Uh huh. The upshot was I had to go from the very back of the first floor to my room on the second in this pitch black house, lit only by the searing flashes from the clouds. Gahhh. I just got to the top of the front stairs, the wind dipped for a second and in the stillness the phone began to ring. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! No WAY was I going to answer it. I knew who was calling. It was Jason. It was Freddie Kruger. It was Michael Meyers. It was the guy from "Scream". Hell, maybe even the ghost of Blackbeard the Pirate. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. "Helooo LA. I know you're alone and I've got a chainsaw/machete/boat hook right here with YOUR name on it." I booked it for my room and slammed and locked the door behind me. I dove across the bed, fumbled with my lighter and shakily lit the scented candle on my nightstand. The storm wound up again and the wind shrieked its fury. I gathered up anything that had a wick, including some dusty old votive candle wedding favors I'd tucked in among the pretties on my mantel and wall shelves and lit them. In that meager circle of light I huddled in my bed and listened to the thumps and crashes of storm tossed tree branches hitting the house. The wind dipped once more and the phone began to ring again. My hair stood straight up. It was too f-ing creepy. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. "Coming to get you, LA. Coming to KILL you." Man, oh man. After an eternity (2 hours) I heard the side porch door slam. The storm was so loud all I could tell was that there was SOMEBODY IN THE HOUSE and began to cry. Clomp. Clomp. Clomp up the stairs. The inevitable pounding on my bedroom door started and I shrieked, "You'll never get ME you psycho killer! Come in here and I'll kill you with your own chain saw! You hear me? I'm just as crazy as you are!" Then I heard maniacal laughter. More pounding and the doorknob being twisted back and forth. I knew the door would crash open any second and armed myself as best I could with a vase of dried flowers and a can of hair spray. "I mean it! You break in here and you'll DIE!" More laughter and then Mike's voice, "Sweetie, it's me. Unlock the door. No more yelling, okay? You're scaring the baby." Boy, did I feel like a dope. No more slasher flicks for THIS chick, I tell you what. Grateful for the bright sunshine, ~LA Today's Pick: "Psycho Killer" by the Talking Heads
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