K and I get back from a grocery raid.  As I am opening the door, with Frankie’s Lazor-eyes recognizing me as friendly, we hear the sound of loud bongos being played somewhere down the street.  We’re both a little flummoxed.  I mean bagpipes are one thing, but now bongos?  What’s next on the phantom music soundtrack?

Still pondering that rascal sneaking about in the secret spaces of my brain.  Somebody’s been listening to old tapes of eighties tunes at night and eating our snacks.  The faucet being left on makes sense now.  When you’re thirsty you got to have a drink!  At least I know now there’s a kid in the psychic drywall.

There’s that darn monster that won’t show itself.  I’m thinking that I’m going to have to seek this thing’s lair out and confront the thing directly.  Maybe this thing is roaming the secret spaces also, and driving my Bad Ronald boy away.  In which case, I am duty bound to take care of business!

This monster has a certain psychic connection with me somehow.  It keeps popping up in daydreams, forcing me to consider it even as I find myself unable to come to any conclusions about it.  Premonitions of a struggle with a devouring force?  I’m wondering if I’m supposed to be the bait for this thing, or the ten-foot pole as you might fathom.

Okay, I’m going back to my fear of icky girl power series here.  I think this nasty monster might just want to have fun.  When I was growing up, there were these kissing-girls in the neighborhood that used to chase boys around.  What could be worse than girl cooties when you’re that age?  Yuck!  Pretty scary stuff.

Slapstick?  Check.  Candle?  Check.  Okay, time to enter the space between!