Megan Thrustbuster was annoyed because, even under the sheets, she could tell it was cold in the apartment. “It’s May 27,” she thought, “Why is it so cold in this apartment for crying out loud!”
She burrowed more deeply into bed, to no avail. But in her pre-completely-awake stupor came another sensation…
Was that the wind she could hear? And… was the apartment swaying…?
She bolted upright. Her worst fears had come true. Her bedroom had somehow become attached to a balloon, floating out over the Arctic Ocean. How the hell…?
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And then she heard it… a throaty, scratchy, evil snickering from the foot of her bed… coming from a tiny, gloating, “heh-heh-heh-ing” head that slowly rose on it’s stupid excuse for a neck till it looked down at her from it’s full 9-foot height.
“You again!” seethed Megan. “Oh, Socialist Ostrich, when will you ever learn?”
