Directly in front of him lay 90 degrees of escape routes. Of the 90 degrees, only 1% of that space was occupied. He could jump, walk, skip, hell he could even trip and fall to safety. But it wasn’t worth the risk. He was sure that he hadn’t been spotted yet. But he had to move. He slowly started to lift his left leg – and the damn thing turned toward him!
Every hair on his body politely stood up and made for the exit. It had to be at least 8 feet wide. The hell was it doing?
It stopped mid way on it’s collision course with him. Paused like a cobra about to strike. It’s eyes taking in every possible outcome and preparing a diabolical reaction for each.
His breath was caught in a traffic jam somewhere between his lungs and Adams Apple. This was a 30 car pile up; his breath wasn’t going to make it out any time soon. His breath called his wife, told her and the kids to eat without him.
How long had he been cornered? 6, 7 hours? He checked his watch. It had been 20 seconds.
What devil spawn can slow time to allow for such torture? This monstrosity was surely not of God’s plan.
It sensed the fear in him. He could tell it was feeding off of his dread. His terror was the cause for the sour stench that was staining the paint and penetrating the carpet pad. There was no way to control it.
It jumped. All 500 pounds of it managed to defy gravity.
He watched it jump and felt his rectum squeeze tighter than a virgin’s thighs on prom night.
A grown man was about to evacuate his bowels in the middle of the hallway.
Slowly, the duty of a father crept back to the forefront of his terrified mind. This creature was in the middle of the house. Which means that it had to have passed. . .
The kids! What had happened to the kids? There was a tomb like air to the house. There were no sounds. Not even a TV was on. The damn thing must have killed the kids!
His wife was going to kill him. He might as well lay his life down right here. Right now. There was no point in living anymore.
But he loved his wife. Maybe he could use his. . . a . . . his shoe! Yes, his shoe! His shoe could be a weapon.
As he lowered his arm to remove his rubber soled sword, never taking his eyes off of the demon, his spine wet with tension, his butt sore from reflexively clamping shut, his hands nervously shaking –
Then it ran across the floor, out the sliding glass door!
He ran to the door, slammed it shut. His heart racing, his butt slowly relaxing. He had to find the kids! Or what was left of them.
Mary was busy making sure that her doll looked the part of a princess. She was going to the ball, after all. As she made her way to the kitchen to find scissors to cut her dolls new grown up hair do, she looked down the hall.
Why was Daddy standing in the corner?
Is he sick? She wanted to go ask him because he looked like he was going to barf, and Mommy and Daddy always said if you have to throw up run like heck to the bathroom!
But he can’t be that sick, he’s taking off his shoe.
Oh! Daddy was going to kill the spider on the floor! But before she could yell ‘Kill it Daddy!’ it scurried out the sliding glass door she accidentally left open.
Oh good, Daddy closed it for her. She loved her Daddy. He was so brave.