Half a Brain Leads To Less of the Same

When I woke up this morning I had this overwhelming sense of something not quite right. That ever happen to you? I didn't want to get out of bed for fear of what I might find, but after some deep soul searching and a post-REM fart -- think of the reminder you get when your cell phone battery is dying and you have it on vibrate and you'll get a pretty good idea -- I swung my legs onto the floor and made my way into the kitchen.

Nothing out of place there.

I turned on the coffee pot and slowly shuffled into the bathroom, where I evacuated the contents of my bladder and let fly with some more bleating ass music. Strange, nothing out of whack in there either.

As I stood there in the bathroom, wondering just what the hell the day had in store for me, I heard a soft pitter-patter on the floor and turned just in time to see a gremlin. I know right! I was shocked as well.

"Excuse me sir," the Gremlin said to me with a look of what could have been disdain on his face, "but I could really use a hand."

"Uh, a hand with what?" I asked incredulously. The fact that there was a tiny mythical monster standing in my fucking bathroom apparently hadn't quite sunk in.

"Well, you see," he began. "I'm having a bit of trouble."

I knew it was a "he" because the thing was hung like Sea Biscuit, which was only brought to my attention after he started frantically pulling down his pants.

"Wow, you're hung like Sea Biscuit," I said.

The gremlin winked at me -- which at the time I took as a slight come-on -- and motioned for me to bend down to his level. After some slight trepidation I relented, mostly because I figured that if it was going to try to rape me at the very least I'd have a kick ass story to tell.

"Listen man, I'm going to level with you. I really have to take a shit, but considering I'm only a foot tall and my arms are disproportionate to the rest of my body I can't quite reach the toilet. So, as I said before, I need a hand."

It was at this point that I remembered I had turned on the coffee pot but due to the fog of sleep I had completely forgotten to add the water. Or coffee grounds.

"Shiiiit," I grumbled to myself.

"That's the idea," said the gremlin. He was starting to look a little green.

I rushed to the kitchen again, quickly added water and two-and-a-half scoops of grounds, and skipped back to the bathroom humming the theme song to The A-Team.

No gremlin.

I searched high and low for that little bastard, spun like a dog chasing its tail, and after a few minutes of that came to the conclusion that my new friend was simply a figment of my imagination.

"Weird," I said to no one and flushed the toilet.

Then again, now that I think of it. . .