(Editors note - This is the second part of a short story I originally posted Dec. 2009. Part one is here if you missed it.)
The siege has ended and order had been restored, but that doesn’t mean I can rest easy. Apparently, my work is just beginning.
I say that because of the comments some of you left on my previous post. I could hardly believe my eyes when I read things like…cute…wonderful things…homes should be filled with soft colorful pillows…and they were the lifeblood of good decorating. It became obvious that what I experienced in my home wasn’t an isolated incident, and that homes all across America were slowly being taken over by this fluffy menace. I can’t sit back and do nothing. I have to tell the rest of my story in hopes that others will come to their senses and take action before it’s too late.
I ended my first warning expressing my concern that the pillows had become aware of my suspicions. As always, it was in the subtle things. When the wife and I would sit down on the couch to watch television, a wall of pillows would form between us, attempting to cut me off from her and drive us apart. Anytime I picked up the phone to place a call, I would hear a mysterious click on the line, a sure sign that someone…or something…was listening in to my conversation. I even had to start making journal entries about what was going on from my computer at work because one day I found one of the little devils lounging in my desk chair… and this blog was on the monitor.
I didn’t know what to do and I was at my wits end. The rest of the family wouldn’t listen to my concerns, oblivious to what was going on. Whenever I brought up the subject of pillows they looked at me as if I had just confessed my dislike of ‘American Idol’. I began staying later at work and finding other reasons for being away. The dread I felt in my own home was palatable. But my worry for what the conniving cushions were planning continued to fuel my search for a solution.
The answer came by way of accident, in more ways than one.
With the temperatures outside dipping below freezing, we decided to let our dogs spend the night in the garage. I opened the back door and started leading the two of them towards the garage, then noticed that both had become very still. Their eyes locked on something inside the rec room. Our dogs are always full of energy and rambunctious, so their behavior was mystifying. Before I could open my mouth to call them, I detected a low growl coming from the male. Instead of urging them into the garage I retraced my steps to see what held their interest. I followed their predatory gaze… to a single black pillow perched on top of the chair back. Glancing back to the dogs I noticed the hair standing stiffly on both of their backs.
The seed of a plan began to form.
I had to wait until yesterday before I could set things in motion. The wife needed to go to Little Rock for a day of shopping and much to her surprise I volunteered to accompany her. The house would be empty for hours. Just as we were loading into the car that morning, I remembered my forgotten cell phone. I ran inside, grabbed the phone I purposely left behind, pulled opened the door to the backyard, and left.
When we returned that evening, we discovered the tattered remnant of the first pillow just inside the front door, like a homecoming gift. The carnage was everywhere. Pillow guts covered everything. My wife was near tears, but I did my best to feign shock and anger at the obvious culprits. I found them curled up near the back fence, pieces of pillow still dangling from their jaws, no doubt worn out from their pillaging. After walking through the entire house and seeing the full scope of the bedlam, it became clear. Every single pillow had been torn to shreds. I discovered the pieces of black pillow partially underneath a couch, where it had no doubt attempted to crawl to avoid the massacre, the scent of dog urine heavy in the air around it.
But as I said, the battle is not over. I still have to find some way to prevent my wife from bringing the infestation back into our home. I also need to convince all of you about the peril that is lying beneath your feet or behind your heads. I can’t be the first to have discovered this threat. Maybe there are others with dismembered bedding, unaware?
Please hear my plea! Colors are not the only thing they are coordinating. Consider yourself warned.