You know how everyone has their quirks and idiosyncrasies? One of mine is that I really don’t like taking the last of anything, and I’ll avoid doing so as much as possible. Like if there’s a box of donuts for a group or something, and there’s only one left, I won’t take it, unless I’ve asked everyone around if they want it first. Things like that. Well there have been a couple times in which I’ve given in to impulse and took the last of something anyway. Well, let me tell you how much of a jerk my conscience is.
I was at my grandparents’ house. It was late at night, and I was re-watching the whole series of 24. It was that dark time in the 24 world where President Palmer got assassinated, and I really wanted ice cream to get over what I already knew would happen, but still left me saddened.
I get the ice cream out of the freezer, and there’s only one more serving left in the container. Under any other circumstance, I would put it back in the freezer and find something else. But dammit President Palmer just died! I NEED TO EAT MY FEELINGS THAT SHOULDN’T BE THIS STRONG TOWARDS SOMEONE WHO ISN’T REAL. So I ate it. All of it.
Maybe it was because I’m slightly lactose intolerant. Maybe it was because I didn’t go to sleep until like 6am that morning. But I had the strangest, most horrendous nightmare.
I was back in my kitchen. A flashback to my decision to finish off the ice cream. So I’m at the counter, scooping out the ice cream into a cup, when some short, stubby silhouette figure sneaks in through the garage door. I stare at it, confused, and it starts communicating with me…kind of. I can hear it in my head, like telepathically. I hear a frantic whisper saying, “SH-SH-SHARING IS CARING….SSSSSSHAAARING ISSSS CAAAAARING,” over and over again. And the figure walks towards me. The room was dark but as it walked into a patch of light I see this monster.
But imagine it with red eyes, coming at you with what I suppose was one of those lollipops of DOOM. And it beat me within an inch of my life. And then I woke up, never to take the last of anything since. Lesson freaking learned, geez.
I’ve never liked Care Bears, and now I can say I hate them. No thing can be that happy and helpful without having a lot of darkness to hide. I just knew it.
Laugh at me if you want, jerks. But I wouldn’t wish that kind of trauma on my worst enemy. Staple characters of your childhood attacking you in your sleep is the worst. So yeah, that last hors d’oeuvre right there? You can have it. I’m good.