Leave the Doors Open
I’m showering at the Bates Motel.
Through the shower curtain, I can see a form moving toward me.
“Who’s there?” I scream.
“Mother Bates,” a cackling woman’s voice says.
“Do you have a big nasty knife?”
“Yep.”
“Is it real sharp?”
“Incredibly.”
“Let’s see,” I say, pulling open the shower curtain.
She hands me a nasty-looking butcher knife.
She’s right. The blade couldn’t be sharper.
“Wanna change places?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says, stepping into the shower.
I slash her, Norman her loony son, the entire cast, crew, and Alfred Hitchcock.
I never saw so much blood. Too bad I’m not a vampire.
While you’ve been reading this, I’ve been hacking your computer. Now I know who you are, where you live.
I just took your picture with a camera hidden inside the period at the end this sentence.
Make my day. Leave all your doors open whenever you shower.