On Mondays, my brain riots and Edgar Allen Poe takes his revenge

Edgar Allen Poe

Edgar Allen Poe is telling me I should write horror fiction. Or is it romance? Not sure.

Edgar Allen Poe is telling me to write horror fiction. Or is it romance? Not sure Click To Tweet

I dreamt that Carl and I found this incredible room behind our office, our office that is basically a place for books and boxes of unwanted items to go and die.

The door to the secret room was small, like in Being John Malkovich. But once we wiggled our way in, we found a treasure trove: the room was full of comic book memorabilia, including a full-sized Robbie the Robot shaped vault that was purple.

I was ecstatic, Carl was concerned.

We sifted through all the boxes of first edition comic books and sorted the unopened packages of models and toys. Boy, was I working up an appetite.

I went to open the Robbie the Robot vault, hoping to find Robbie the Robot. As I turned the dial, we heard something rumbling inside – I thought it was my stomach. When he opened the door, a shrill scream broke through the darkness and. . .

I woke up.

The toddler was standing over our bed, wielding a box of cereal, “I’m really hungry. And the dogs peed in the kitchen.”

I wonder if Poe had dogs that peed on everything.

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