A Pinstriped Finger's My Only Friend

TOMORROW MORNING:

The first thing Judd Ramsey sees when he opens his eyes is...

("Yaaaahh!"  Screaming, he scrambles out of bed in a tangle of arms, legs, and bedsheets.)

...something so bizarre, so unbelievable...

(He hits the carpet on both knees, hits it hard, sending a shock right up to his tailbone.)

...that it scares the crap out of him.  And that's really saying something, because Judd never scares easy, but holy smoke, what would you do...

(Lurching to his feet, he staggers through the open doorway of his bedroom, out into the hall.  His heart is pounding like a nail gun on high speed setting, he has to get away from that thing.)

...seriously, what would you do if you woke up from a sound sleep and looked up and saw some kind of purple, furry creature...

(Run run run run run is all he could think of, all he can do, he has to get away somehow from that freaky monster or whatever it)

...some kind of purple, furry creature hanging from the ceiling, staring down at you...and did I mention...

(Squirming?  Are the walls squirming as he runs past, or is it some kind of optical illusion from the panic?)

...did I mention the creature's eyes are bright orange and swirling?  What about its breath that smells like gasoline with a hint of bubblegum?

(Oh my God oh my God get away must get away)

That's right!  You'd do exactly what Judd does, which is run the heck outta there before this crazy thing can get its...

(Is somebody singing opera?)

...get its tentacles...???

(Go left go left the front door the front door)

...get its tentacles all over you, except what if...

(Oh no, the front door flies open all of a sudden, except it flies open downward, from the ceiling to the floor, and then and then...)

...what if you ran right into the tentacles of another one just like the first...

(...and then a second creature rushes in from outside, just as purple and furry and orange-eyed as the one in his room, and this one grabs him before he can get away, and it says...)

...and it says...

"Good morning, son!"  That's what it says!

(And it says it, holy crap holy crap...)

And it says it in the voice of his...

The voice of his mom!

"Where are you running off to this fine morning?"

Judd freezes in the tentacled grip of this freakish monstrosity.  His eyes are wide as full moons as he stands there, locked up in the craziest moment of his life so far by far.

Which only gets crazier when Sphinx, the chocolate Lab, saunters in, and Judd realizes who's been doing the opera singing.

(It was Sphinx.)

"What's wrong, honey?"  The furry purple thing turns its face all the way around like a pinwheel, so its mouth

(which looks like a green croissant)

is on top, and its swirly orange eyes are on bottom.

And that's when I finally speak up.  Because I know how upset Judd is at this point.  I know he needs someone to talk him down from the ledge, and that someone has to be me.  Because the fact is, no one is more attached to him than I am.

"Hey, Dude!"  I shout it as loud as I can.  "I said, hey, dude!"

At first, Judd doesn't know where my voice is coming from.  He's clueless.  So I call out again.

"Dude!  Judd!"  What I want to do is smack him upside the head, smack some sense into him, but maybe that would be cruel.  If I could do it in the first place, of course, which I can't.  "Listen up!"

Finally, he looks down in my direction.  His eyes get even wider, which I didn't think was possible.

(I feel the tingle of electricity through his nerves, the twitch of muscle, the creaking of bone...)

Then, he lifts his arm, raises his hand to eye level.

(...and I add a little twitch of my own, a little flicker of movement from side to side...)

And this time, when I speak, he hears me loud and clear.  He sees me loud and clear.

"That's right, buddy-boy."  He sees me, the little finger on his left hand, doing the talking.  "Listen up, bro."  The deep blue vertical pinstripes running up and down the pale blue length of me

(which isn't very long)

curl as I bend at the first knuckle

(Can I help it if I tend to gesture when I talk?)

and dispense the words of wisdom I've been meaning to say.

"You need to chill out, Judd!"

I still don't know if it's the shock of seeing his pinstriped pinky finger talking to him...

(Like I said, we're attached.)

...or the weird purple furry with its tentacles wrapped around him, or the opera-singing chocolate Lab...

(It could be the walls, come to think of it, which are not only squirming, but crawling.)

...but that's when Judd Ramsey, who has never ever fainted before in his whole entire life...

Faints.

Can you blame him?