Waiting for the click, I slid my eyes down over the lump in the blankets.
When I heard the door close and lock behind Maggie, I slowly raised my hand to my forehead, pressed my shaking fingers to my Third Eye, and opened my Sight.
Then I wrapped the top hem of the blanket around my fist and flung myself back off the bed, spine first, screaming, “DEATH AWAITS YOU!” so hard my lungs burned.
Black tentacles pooled in the middle of the bed; I could see black ectoplasm crawling and bubbling where I’d been lying.
Last night’s chicken dinner threatened me with alimony, and my throat constricted from the burn.
“Hey, what are you? How’d you get in? Were you here the whole time, or did you hitch a ride with Santa Claus?”
I felt around the floor and found the chicken leg I’d dropped. I pitched it at the seething black mass and sighed. As I watched, the chicken leg hurled into the air, touched a black tendril, and dissolved instantly.
“Hey, didn’t I see you in Final Fantasy? I mean, that was some good work in the beginning, but in the later ones you were just sort of... a meatball with extra arms. Light on the sauce. Not that there’s anything wrong with spaghetti!”