Thursday, April 21, 2005

Morning Routine

A strange thing happened this morning when I was shaving.

I had the television in the other room tuned on New York 1. I had just put shaving cream on my face, when I thought I heard Pat Kiernan shout "they're going to get youuuuu!"

When I went to my living room to check it out, Thom Yorke was sitting on my couch, eating Jelly Bellys.

"Thom, what are you doing here?"

"They're going to get you," he replied, simply.

"I know, you told me that the other day," I said. "But how did you get into my apartment?"

"Theeeey are out to get you," he quickly sang, before shoving another handful of Jelly Bellys into his mouth.

"Look, Thom, you can't keep doing this," I said firmly.

Thom shrugged. He showed no signs of leaving.

"Okay, I'm going to go get changed for work."

Thom nodded and put his boots up on my coffee table.

When I had finished shaving and getting dressed, I came back into the living room. Thom was busy throwing half eating Jelly Bellys up toward my ceiling, trying to get them to stick.

"Thom, stop that!" I exclaimed.

He lept up and began shaking. "Theeeeeey, theeeey, theeeeey -- "

"They what?" I shouted over him. "They what?"

"Are going to get you!" he said abruptly before sitting down on the couch again.

"You have to leave, Thom," I said angrily. "I need to go to work."

Thom shook his head. I think he was pouting.

"Please Thom?"

He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the television. Whipple's World was on.

"Okay, look Thom," I pleaded, "if I guess who is 'out to get me,' then will you leave my apartment?"

All of a sudden, Thom lept up off the couch and began to do that strange epileptic dance thing. "Theeeeey, theeeeeey," he began singing frantically.

"Yes! Yes! 'They'," I said, grabbing at his arms, trying to get him calmed down. "If I guess who 'they' are, then you'll leave, right?"

Thom nodded and crouched down in anticipation of my first guess.

"The Government."

Thom grunted no.

"The Media."

Thom moaned no and began waving his arms.

"Space Aliens."

Thom spit in anger.

"Okay, calm down," I insisted. Even though I was getting even more late for work, I took my time to think.

"Global corporations?"

Thom shrieked and began throwing handfuls of Jelly Bellys up into the air.

"Thom stop! Thom please!"

Thom began to chant. "The naameless, the faaceless, the blaaamless -- "

"Okay I get it, global corporations," I pleaded. "But, Thom, why are you telling me this?

Thom didn't answer. He just shrieked and climbed out the window.

Like that, he was gone.

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