Is That Napalm You’re Wearing?

I surrender.

I’ve been vanquished by an overwhelming force of unimaginable power. An invading army of devious demons has been gaining ground, seemingly overnight, without my ever being aware of its presence in my home. I’ve been sleeping soundly at night secure in the safety of my bed, because I always make sure my blanket coveres my entire body which everyone knows means that I can’t be touched by the boogieman. But the boogieman isn’t known for his brains and I never took into account a monster as clever as this one. So I sleep like a baby, dreaming the dreams of a man who believes he is safe. Untouchable. Inviolate.

I was so stupid.

Oh sure, in the beginning I was completely unaware of the invasion. Blissfully ignorant of the creeping danger sneaking into my home I failed to see the warning signs. I never noticed as the enemy probed for weaknesses in my defenses. Reconnaissance teams passed like stealth bombers under my radar defense system and set up command posts at strategic locations throughout my home. My early warning system, installed at great expense by my friends at the Pentagon, was disabled using orange peels, some tinfoil, a Sharpie pen and a stick of sugarless gum.

Damn you Micro$oft.

They laid low for a few weeks, hiding by the bathroom sink and gathering intelligence before they began their covert operations. Slowly they took some ground and ‘liberated’ the medicine cabinet. Silly me, I didn’t realize anything was happening until it was too late. And even then, I merely had an unexplainable feeling of being in danger as I brushed my teeth in the morning. The feeling that a huge, dark force was moving against me. Surrounding me. Smothering my will to live and suppressing my natural instinct for self preservation. It was a feeling not unlike what every man feels while watching a movie starring Helen Hunt or Meg Ryan.

On a rainy afternoon. Without a date.

Soon however, I began to notice my enemy’s movements throughout my home. At first it was just a few small items found scattered here and there within the confines of my bedroom. Then it grew into obvious trails of cast off detritus leading to and from the master bathroom. I called the offices of Bathroom Security and The Bedroom Defense Union, but my contacts had gone missing and their numbers no longer worked. One morning an encoded message from the bookshelf informed me that the alarm clock was a double agent.

It was then that I knew I was in trouble.

Their cover blown, my enemy came out into the open and soon conquered a drawer under my bed. Then another. The campaign escalated quickly and soon they assaulted the entire southwest corner of the bedroom. Gaining ground and momentum with every victory and meeting little to no resistance as they marched onwards, they grew bolder in their activities. Waking up one morning I was shocked to discover that my bathroom floor had formally surrendered during the night and was now completely under enemy control. A puppet regime had been put in place and the old fungal overlords were in hiding somewhere behind the toilet.

The bathtub was conquered that same day without a fight.

Caught by surprise by the ferocity of their advance, I retreated to the hallway, where I draw a line in the floorboards and made the first of many stands against the invaders. I let it be known that I was king and master of my domicile and no one and nothing would come in and take over without a fight. I swore I wouldn’t allow it. I promised no more ground would be lost. I made dire threats. I threw tantrums and stomped my feet.

And when all else failed, I whined and became petulant.

It was a bold move on my part and against any other enemy it would have worked, but by this time my position was hopeless and I was overrun within week. Sensing my imminent defeat, and not wanting to endanger the VEHTS, I raised the white flag. A date was set and the leader of the invading forces and I met at the bargaining table as we drew up the documents for terms of my surrender.

The reign of HoBiscuit the First had begun.

I gave up both drawers under the bed and the corner of my bedroom between the bed and the windows. She got one whole medicine cabinet, a slot for her toothbrush and my agreement not to mention her long hairs on the bathroom floor or clogging the bathtub drain. Ever. She gets as much of the fridge as she needs whenever she needs it, and whichever one of us cooks, I must do the dishes. I am not allowed to throw out her magazines, no matter if they’re 6 months old, and if I even think about throwing out a TV Guide before she reads it I can and will be flogged and then shot at dawn. If she thinks it is cold, then it is cold and I must turn up the heat until such time as she is too hot and I will then turn down the heat until she is cold again, ad nauseam. The Comfy Couch of Super Sleep is hers and if it looks like she’s sleeping, she’s not. She’s just ‘thinking’. She makes the rules, and no matter how silly or contradictory I might think they are, I will follow them. Always.

I get to touch her boobies once a week if she feels like it. Seems fair.

UPDATE

I’ve just received word from the GeekMan Liberation Front that the computer room is putting up a solid defense against the encroaching forces of the HoBiscuit regime. The office message board is all but lost and a suicide bomber took out the 2002 sexy girl calendar, but no other casualties have been reported and the spirits of the people are high.

Viva la résistance!