basically home alone

2021-03-29

I’m a little kid, in an old house with my older brother and our dog.

There are two burglars trying to break into the house and get us. One is huge like Andre the Giant, and the other is little like Joe Pesci.

I’m able to shove several boxes of food down into the hallway, barricading the front door, and then I run toward the back of the house, yelling at my brother to grab the dog and follow me.

I can’t go out the back, because that’s where the little guy will be coming in now that I blocked the front. I run in circles throughout the house trying to stay as far away from where I think they are as I can.

The next time I make it to the front hallway, the big guy had eaten most of the food and was almost all the way inside.

I ran away again and hid, and by this time I can tell that the little guy was getting really mad.

I wait until the big guy has eaten through the food and cleared the front entrance, and then I run outside.

The big guy is laying down in a tub because he ate too much, and I lay down with him. I can see the ghosts of all my friends that the little guy just killed because he was mad he couldn’t find me, including Captain America and Iron Man. I’m scared because one little guy shouldn’t have been able to kill all those strong guys all at once.

“He just bit down on the handle of my axe,” one explains, “and kept chomping on it like it was a cob of corn.”

The big guy is kind of petting me, trying to comfort me, and then the little buy comes out the front of the house and gnashes his teeth and walks toward us.