So there were some rustlings a bit ago outside my window. We live out in the fucking country, but there are currently 21 cats on the property, mostly kittens who are rather fond of me and my mom (and no, I shit you not, TWENTY ONE CATS).
So at first I figured one of the kittens had come round and saw the light in my low-to-the-ground window and was investigating. So I pulled the grounds up slightly, peered into the dark around the stubby, scrawny shrubbery, and called “Babies? Kitties, you out there?”
Naturally, no felines or other things appeared. I put the blinds back down and reclined again (my bed is right near the wall with that window, I never had to leave the mattress for any of the preceding) with my laptop. Then the rustlings and a small “thump” against the screen come again. I call, “Babies?”, and then freeze before sitting up to check the window again.
Because immediately I think of the 14 inch notched dagger in my bestand cabinet, and how maybe I ought to grab it in case what’s at my window isn’t a curious cat, but a motherfucking creep trying to get in the house.
And THEN, I suddenly flatten back against the pillows and lean to the side, because my brain further conjures a possible psycho at the window with a gun, about to get his sociopathic kicks by shooting through random lit windows late at night at silhouettes (and every fucking body owns guns out here, so this isn’t quite as where-the-fuck-did-you-get-that as you think), and all I can think is how disturbingly clever that would be, because if you’re wanting to maim/kill/injure people for kicks, shooting through windows at silhouettes isn’t a horrible way to do it, because you’ll have a good idea of the target’s position while they’ll have zero idea of yours, and you’d have plenty of very nearby dense woods to disappear into once the gunfire wakes up the rest of the household.
This is the disturbing shit I come up with, totally casually. Brain, what, why.