Oh sure, you’d like me to think you’re simply an inanimate object. You want me to sit idly by and not give two shits about what you do, cause I’m not supposed to think you do anything, other than provide some altitude adjustment for improved neckular comfort during my temporary state of disconciousness. But I’ve found out your little secret, and I can prove it!
You see, every time I wash and re-apply your pillow case and that…thing that goes underneath the case, but over you yourself (for lack of a better word we’ll call it the pillow underwear,) I make sure to do something. I always put the zippered part of the pillow underwear (pillow panties?..I’ll consider it) on the inside of the pillow case, so that the zipper doesn’t stick out and scratch my arm. Yet it did that just now, so I figured I must have been mistaken last time I washed them. And yet…I seem to recall the other night I was doing the exact same thing, flipping you around so the zipper on your underwear was on the inside where it belongs. I haven’t washed them between then and now (maybe I should, but that’s neither here nor there, so shut up about it!) so there is only one explanation:
You’re alive!
…and apparently a bit of a nudist.
I can see it now. As soon as I close the door, You throw off the case , free of the shackles burdened down upon you by modern society. Thus released from your 300-thread count prison (what can I say, I don’t have money for fancy sheets), you hobnob with the duvet cover and proceed to get it on with the bed skirt (a little hypocritical, don’t you think?) I bet you think your pretty fucking smart, but I’m on to you! You obviously don’t give a flying rat’s ass which way you orient yourself in that case, and it has been your downfall.
Well, no more, I say! God help me, I’ll see that pillow case stay on you come Hell or high water! I’ll sew your polyester-stuffed ass to that cheap, sweat and semen soaked cotton if it kills me! I’ll laugh maniacally as your screams of pain from countless needle pokes go unheaded. Where’s your precious duvet cover now? I’ll tell you where, he’s wrapped around some filthy hobo after he fished it out of the dumpster I threw him in! No, you aren’t the only one who suffers here, my friend. I’m taking you down and everything you hold dear in your pathetic excuse for a life. You don’t even want to know what happened to the bed skirt (but I’ll let you in on a little secret…those new curtains my mom is getting for Christmas aren’t all that new…Mwahahaha!)
Maybe now we’ll see who’s zipper scratches who’s shoulders, you filthy piece of shit. You make me want to puke. I hope for your sake you die a quick death, cause whatever it is Hell has in store for you it’s far better than what I’ve got planned…