window　and　in　the

closet　and　under　the　bed；　but　still　the　feeling　didn't　go

away。

It　took　me　until　nearly　midnight　to　understand　what　it　was。

It　was　me。　Watching　me。

Looming　Large　and　Smelly

Sunday　I　woke　up　feeling　like　I'd　been　sick　with　the　flu。　Like　I'd　had　one　of　those　bad；

convoluted；　unexplainable　fever　dreams。

And　what　I've　figured　out　about　bad；　convoluted；　unexplainable　dreams　of　any　kind　is　that

you've　just　got　to　shake　them　off。　Try　to　forget　that　they

ever　happened。

I　shook　it　off；　all　right；　and　got　out　of　bed　early　'cause　I　had　eaten　almost　nothing　the　night

before　and　I　was　starving！　But　as　I　was　trucking　into　the

kitchen；　I　glanced　into　the　family　room　and　noticed　that　my　dad　was　sacked　out　on　the　couch。

This　was　not　good。　This　was　a　sign　of　battles　still　in　progress；　and　it　made　me　feel　like　an

invader　in　my　own　territory。

He　rolled　over　and　kind　of　groaned；　then　curled　up　tighter　under　his　skinny　little　quilt　and

muttered　some　pretty　unfriendly…sounding　stuff　into　his

pillow。

I　beat　it　into　the　kitchen　and　poured　myself　a　killer　bowl　of　corn　flakes。　And　I　was　about　to

drown　it　in　milk　when　my　mother　es　waltzing　in　and

snags　it　away　from　me。　“You　are　going　to　wait；　young　man；”　she　says。　“This　family　is　going　to

have　Sunday　breakfast　together。”

“But　I'm　starving！”

“So　are　the　rest　of　us。　Now　go！　I'm　making　pancakes；　and　you're　taking　a　shower。　Go！”

Like　a　shower's　going　to　prevent　imminent　starvation。

But　I　headed　down　to　the　bathroom；　and　on　my　way　I　noticed　that　the　family　room　was　empty。

The　quilt　was　folded　and　back　on　the　armrest；　the

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