Alex was not a happy camper. Sleep was a precious commodity, and if Alexander Summers did not get ten or more hours a night -- or day, considering his nocturnal habits -- someone was going to pay. Die a slow painful death, or something equally ominous. Josh was quickly rising to the top of that list because he was screaming and Alex had only gone to bed a few hours ago. Or was that only thirty minutes? Who knew. Daylight was rarely in the dorm, Alex had made sure of that by one morning tacking a sleeping bag crudely over the one window. But that totally awesome sleeping bag did not block out his roommate. Still freaking out. Over something.
Grumbling, and muttering curse words that only a sailor would idolize, Alex rolled over, and sat straight up on his bed wrapped in a blanket. He was certainly not awake, but he liked to pretended to be. In case if was an emergency. And hell, it better be or Alex was going to need a new tv because Josh would be going head first into in like, two seconds. "What are you screaming about?" He asked, sounding like Oscar the Grouch, missing only a garbage can to complete the look. It was then that Alex saw it. The thing. The thing worth screaming about. And then he screamed.
Like a little sissy girly girl with braided pigtails and poofy pink checkered summer dress.
Alex bolted to standing on his bed, screaming. And screaming. And screaming. He couldn't get himself to shut up. And he was switching between legs, like those chicks did when they saw a mouse or a cockroach or a bug and stood on a chair. Though a wolf was like thirty times worse than a stupid spider. He had good reason. He also thought by being up on the bed the wolf couldn't get him. Yeah, the wolf, couldn't get up on the bed situated only two feet -- if even -- off the ground. Oh yeah, totally safe.