'Twas twelve nights before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring...except for the mouse. Erm, excuse me, the sugar-glider.
He, Benjamin Dallas, a fuzzy little guy, scampered from his high-security cage like a well trained ex-spy. He wandered the tile floor, he explored the living room, and then he hastened toward my midnight doom.
Toward the warmth of my bed little Ben swiftly crept, in the hopes that he could cuddle in the crook of my neck. He climbed up the bedclothes, navigated my pillows, and zoomed like white lightning right straight for my hands.
Meanwhile, I, unawares, sojourned in other-wheres, floating in dreamland unaware of my fate.
Then, twelve nights before Christmas, a visiting furry pest got sidetracked by my unsuspecting hands.
He licked and he bit them, until I, the shocked one, sat bolt upright and scared poor Ben away. He ran and he scampered, and I, in mouse-suspecting fervor, reached toward my nightstand and switched on the lamp.
At that point, it happened, Ben looked up and, frozen, awaited his fate with a stolid blank stare. For above him, eyes open, watched the cat he'd awoken. Ben trembled just slightly as he wondered what to do.
But the moment, it passed, as that giant, watchful cat merely blinked his bright green eyes and looked toward me.
Ben scampered off my bed as I cursed my lazy feline friend and I stumbled after, to imprison the rat.
Well, the rest of the story is uneventful--even boring--and my sad attempt at rhyming has probably troubled your souls. But the moral of this story, though it's been crazy and occurred without warning, is to keep up your guard for late winter night guests. You may think they are harmless, you may think they are holiday guests...but the truth is they may just bite and lick you to death.
*based on true events.
P.S. Yes, this does mean that school is over for a few weeks and I can once again blog in a semi-regular fashion!