June 14, 2012 3:44 AM
Posted by Jei D. Marcade
When I was a growing up, I had some irrational fears involving the bathroom at night. Foremost was my conviction that as I fumbled for the light switch, Something Else was in the mirror alongside my reflection, watching me in the dark. I would always steel myself for the worst, so as to minimize the chances that, when I glimpsed said Thing in the Mirror, I'd promptly have a heart attack and die.
Part of this I can attribute to my keen awareness of dramatic irony, and part of it was because I habitually saw creepy shit in my peripheral vision. This latter, I think, has contributed to my tendency toward delayed reactions--my brain considerately allows me an extra second or two to ascertain that whatever it is that has startled me won't disappear when I turn my head to look at it straight on.
One side effect of such delayed reactions is that when my friends try to scare me, there is often a moment of disappointment on their part when I stare stone-facedly at the intended object of horror--and then, eventually, just as they're about to give up the prank as a failed attempt, I scream my fool head off.
I am assured that this is hilarious.
I don't know why I'm writing about this is except that it is ass o'clock in the morning and I woke up, as I often did as a kid, with the light still on and a book on my face, and I've traded in my irrational fear of Things in the Mirror for an irrational fear of the monstrous seven-legged spider that lurks near the toilet and which Joe has forbidden me from murderifying because he respects life or something.