The following morning I woke up about thirty-minutes early because I had to poop again. I really hate waking up feeling like I am about to explode if I don’t get to a toilet right away. Thankfully, it doesn’t happen very often.
However, not only had I woke up, but so did my imagination and it picked up right where it had left off the night before.
As my bowels screamed and ached for release I knelt in the center of the bed and tried to figure out, how to get from the bed to the bathroom without being grabbed by whatever was under the bed.
I decided that there was nothing else I could do. I had to attempt to jump as far from the edge of the bed as I could and hope that whatever was under the bed had short arms, or tentacles, or whatever monsters have instead of arms.
