Night Terrors

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that I'm not a big fan of shrieking women, especially at 1:30 in the morning. I know, I have crazy ideas... I seem a madman even; one who is bound to begin lecturing on the benefits of wearing pinwheel hats to block the evil transmissions from the nation's leading dairy suppliers.

But I stand behind my beliefs.

So you know where I'm coming from... last night, around half-one, I was just getting back to sleep after a trip to the bathroom. I was, point of fact, about 25 billionths of a second away from a deep, dark, all-encompassing snooze when, from outside my aparment, in the hall, came a blood-curdling, sack-tightening, cold sweat-inducing scream. Let me be clear... this wasn't a "we're partying hardy down here" scream or an "Ahhh! The sewer main just exploded in my living room" scream. No, no... this was, unquestionably, a "someone is trying to stab me in my apartment at 1:30 in the morning" scream. Trust me, I've seen a lot of horror movies... this scream could have been in any of them. As we have a door in our bedroom that opens into the stairwell (railroad apartment, see) I could tell that the ruckus was coming from the floor below us. I darted (skittered, really) to our front door and peered out the peephole, hoping that it was a group of students who had decided to shoot a movie in the middle of the night or, at the very least, a serial killer who was shorter than me. But I saw nothing. I opened the door and stepped out on to the landing (brave, no?) and hollered a not-at-all timid "Everything alright." I heard low talking a door shut and, well, I am now assuming that everything worked it's self out.

I will be on gaurd for bad smells wafting up from the 3rd floor, though. Which is just the most pleasent thought ever.