Pure Terror

Last night we were sitting around the island in Shelley's kitchen eating dinner. She was sitting on the stool, and I was opening the refrigerator when she screamed liked banshee. Shelley jumped off the bar stool, ran into the hall and stared wild-eyed into the kitchen. After checking my pants for poo, I asked, "Was it a roach?" I walked over to where she had been sitting to investigate. Nothing. As she gained her composure, Shelley said, "I thought a rat dropped on my head but I think it was just my scrunchy that fell on my neck." Wow. That's all I could think. Wow.