Things that (really do) Go Bump in the Night
The sound came out of nowhere. A sort of ripping sound that seemed to get closer and closer. I was already having difficulty sleeping and now I had to deal with this. Of course, I started to scare myself senseless with thoughts, that whatever THIS was, it was watching me, because it knew to start when I was lying down and to stop when I sat up. I was beginning to feel like a jack in the box.
A very cranky one.
I lay perfectly still, straining to hear it, hoping to identify it. I also thought of the probability of figuring it out and the possibility of my having to get up and kill it.
I took the flashlight from my bed side table and scanned the room. Nope. No grim reaper pointing his finger at me. Very cautiously, I leaned over the edge of the bed and searched under it, not quite sure if I really wanted to find something under there. Nothing. The boogeyman must have been on vacation. As I’m struggling to get myself back upright, I hear the ripping sound; it’s real loud and real close and I almost flip off the bed.
My heart in my throat, I say out loud, “OK, this is not funny! Whatever you are, knock it off!” Like it’s going to answer me or something. Yah and THEN what would I do! The stupid things we do when our sleep deprived imaginations are terrorized by the unknown. I suddenly started to think that it sounded just like someone ripping out carpet and since I lived alone, I couldn’t imagine who that someone might be.
Once again I hear this awful tearing sound.
Then it got silent.
That made me even more nervous. But it stopped as suddenly as it began. I waited and listened. Nothing. Being the sort who doesn’t like to venture out if I don’t have to, I finally calmed down. I waited about twenty minutes and still nothing. It really was gone I though to myself.
Frazzled nerves no longer jittery, I was just about to drift off when out of nowhere comes this huge “BANG!”
Like a shotgun going off.
Right next to my head.
When I finally got my heart back into my chest, and sure my bowels weren’t about to give way, I realized that one of the tires, on my wheelchair, blew out. The ripping sound was the inside of the tire tearing apart as the tube pushed its way out.
Now there was a first. Night of the Living Chair.
The next day I looked like I was drained of blood, my ears were still ringing and I wheeled tipped to one side like Quasimodo until the repair guy arrived.
Now, the sound of someone ripping carpet out makes me check my wheels.
Traumatized forever by rubber.