“Again!?” I shrieked, loud enough for the whole house to hear.
Another morning, another unmade bed.
“Someone’s gonna pay!” I warned, tossing a stray pillow onto the chaotic pile of sheets and blankets.
But before uttering another word, I felt it. A pair of surprisingly strong hands gripping my ankles tight. Bone chilling cold against my bare skin.
I grunted and groaned, struggling to break free. But the grasp of this unseen entity was far too powerful. I was trapped.
Then I heard it: giggling from underneath the bed.
“I can’t play along, if you laugh!” I reminded him.
Again.
The Weekday One Hundred 