It was a boring, non-stormy, uneventful evening. The kid was all snuggled in bed, the cat was lazing in the kitchen, all was quiet. About 2 am I decide to call it a night. I was tired, for once, and bored out of my mind.
Earlier that day, the kid got new flashy shoes. The kind that light up when the kids walk and seem to bring them immense amount of joy. They're a must-have, else they'll get laughed right off that pre-school playground. As a parent, it was my duty to make sure she had those specific Tinkerbell light-up/headache inducing shoes.
As I'm thinking about how annoyingly expensive it is for a kid to be 'cool', I'm slowly going around the house, turning the lights off one by one. I head for the last bathroom run of the night, as Chuck passes me in the hallway to go to the bedroom.
I finish up getting ready for bed, exit the bathroom, and blindly proceed to the hallway. *THUMP* < From my living room. Let me say right now, we had a HUGE livingroom window, with a door that led to the balcony that had been proven by my brother that it could indeed be scaled from the outside. My blood runs cold as I freeze. I can't even breathe. All I can do is slowly turn my head toward where the sound came from, when...
*THUMP* ... *Flashy-flashy-flashy-flash* I screamed for all I was worth. I don't know if I thought those little red lights were aliens, or a massive bulked up burglar with a gun and his own set of blinky shoes, but I tell ya I was terrified. Petrified, even. If I hadn't of just used the bathroom, well, the rest should be able to go unsaid.
For the record; I scream like a man. There is nothing girly about my scream. It's a guttural "OMFG I'M GOING TO DIE" scream. It's not a time to go for cutesy, I tell ya!
In reply, however, I hear a high-pitched feminine scream. I run for the light. As it (the light, of course) illuminates part of the living room, I see a full-grown hairy man, white as a ghost, Tinkerbell blinkie shoes in hand. "Chuck! WTF are you doing???"
"I'm checking out the shoes!!" He replies. "Why in the hell did you scream?"
My sheer terror turns into sheer annoyance at this point. I'm trying to calm myself instead of going with natures instinct: Tear the face off the thing that just paralyzed you, now that you have mobility back. I explain to him that I thought he had went to bed, so I didn't expect him to be playing with blinkie shoes in the middle of the dark livingroom at 2 am. His reply to me?
"Oh. I thought you seen a ghost behind me, YOU scared the crap out of ME!"
My mom's response for the entire thing? ... "MUAhahahahahahahaha!"
And that, my friends, is why blinkie shoes are evil.
