Beefed Up Intruder

It really startled him.

That noise ~

did you hear it?

Denying anxiety's tendency to keep the body frozen, a quick, silent movement removed his frame from the warmth of the sheets. The crisp morning air surrounded his body as he silently reached into the dresser drawer for a weapon. His choice? A hammer.

Holding his breath so as to not create any noise himself, he headed for the bedroom door, slinking like a cat preparing to pounce on his prey.

Listening, listening . . .

the silence roared.

and then it happened.

again.

Did you hear that?

yet another fluid motion and he swung open the door. Hammer poised in mid-air, each step spoke of the intruder's certain demise.

Across the floor, swiftly, step by step . . .

until the intruder was immediately in front of him.

Protesting loudly against the pent up condensation, the crock pot lid shouted surrender at his would be assailant.

~ Groan ~


It was only the crock pot.