Sometimes, when ELV has had a particularly tough day, or is looking forward to one, he finds himself tossing and turning in bed into the wee hours, utterly unable to fall into any sort of slumber. After some struggle, he is often able to coax his busy, fertile, over-active brain into some sort of somnambulant stupor. When this happens, he often finds himself awakening, in the dead of night, in a strange room, soaked with the sweat of a thousand terrors — with hideous and grotesque images dancing in his brain — the ones that have haunted him throughout his life.
“What is it?” The Food Gal asks, trying to calm our panic and supply some semblance of succor. “What’s wrong? Tell me, maybe I can help?”
“It’s too terrible for words,” is all ELV can muster through his quivering voice.
“Tell me…please…let me help you,” is her reassuring reply in the purring, sweet, sheltered voice of one who has no idea what alarming, alimentary atrocities lie ahead.
“I…I…I dreamt that one…you know..the one…where…it…we can’t escape! I thought it was over….but it’s BACK! It’s BACK I tell you. It’s going to be EVERYWHERE!!! AND IT’S COMING TO GET US ALL AFTER I THOUGHT IT DIED IN 1998!!! God help us all! (sob sob sob)”