In the spirit of the scary movies that tend to come out around Halloween, each year the Army Dude likes to go over safety tips he's gleaned from watching them:
1. If a psychotic, machete-wielding killer is chasing you, don't run because you will fall down. Then you will be killed.
2. The psychotic, machete-wielding killer will be at the barn (or whatever safe place you choose) before you, and he will not break a sweat. Then you will be killed.
3. If you're a teenager, do not sneak off to have sex. You will be killed.
4. If it's late at night and there is a strange noise in the basement, don't be the person who volunteers to check it out. You will be killed.
I mention this because at midnight on Halloween night, I was awakened by a strange, high-pitched noise. It was the kind of noise that might be made by a malfunctioning refrigerator, a washing machine that has a broken belt, or an alien spaceship landing on the roof. The sound got annoying after a minute or so, and I got up to investigate.
I was halfway down the stairs when I thought of Rule 4. It gave me pause. I reasoned that I was only going to the first floor of the house and not into the basement. This knowledge did not make me feel a whole lot better, but I soldiered on.
I checked my refrigerator (it was fine), I checked my crockpot (breakfast was cooking nicely), and I walked through the rest of the downstairs. I saw nothing unusual. I didn't go outside and check for aliens on the roof. I have a live-and-let-live policy with beings outside my home, including mice, skunks, bugs, and aliens. As long as they're doing what they're doing outside my personal space, I have no beef with them.
The absurdity of the whole situation struck me as I went back upstairs, and I started laughing. After all, if Jason or whatever his name is had come across a cranky, middle-aged woman in no makeup with crazy hair and wearing flannel pajamas with counting sheep printed on them, he'd probably be too stunned to kill me.
You'd think the Army Dude would have realized that.