Horror

My mom asked me if there were any interesting passengers on the airplane back from Illinois and I said no. On the short connection flight from Las Vegas, however, I did find the guy sitting next to me was a little annoying.

We'll call him Roman. Roman was a young man listening to his ipod, bobbing his head to the music, and reading Details magazine. That's all. Nevertheless, I felt my space violated. If only Roman hadn't taken the infernal liberty of bobbing his head to his music, he wouldn't be the subject of a blog today. He gave the impression that he thought he was on television, that the world was his t.v. show, that folk around him needed to know that he was enjoying his ipod tunes. I sneered every time I turned in his direction.

As for me, I was quietly enjoying my book of H.P. Lovecraft horror stories. On the airplane I finished reading "The Lurking Fear" (turns out the crazy Dutch family eventually devolved to become underground-dwelling albino apes who rampaged on the countryside during every thuderstorm), I read "Rats in the Walls" (Guy discovers family secret - since Druidic times his people used to breed cavemen under the family estate in order to chow down on them and to feed them to rats), and I started reading "The Shunned House" (Edgar Allan Poe used to walk past a house owned by Lovecraft's auntie in order to woo a poetess who lived up the street. Apparently Poe used to hit the bars on his way over and was pretty tight by the time he would show up at the lady's house. After only four visits the poetess broke off their acquaintance, despite the fact that Poe was a master of horror and an opium addict.).