Friday, March 25, 2011

My Mattress is Breathing

It’s definitely out to get me. My mattress, that is. I’m sure it swallowed the person before me. Mattresses are like anacondas, you know. Once they eat, it takes a long while before they need to again. They digest things ever so slowly, and hardly move while they do.

That’s how I know it’s after me. It’s been moving. Rumbling. Seeming remarkably empty. I’ve been waiting for the day that it just snaps me up. I wonder what they did with the last girl’s stuff. Mine will be a pain to move, if it gets me.
Sure, they might seem all innocent. They’re great at luring you into a false sense of security. But even the safe ones still need to eat. Those socks that go missing? And the way the blankets seem to gradually disappear? That’s no accident.

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