Last night, Bridgette made a very foolish decision, and one she will live to regret.
She flipped on a light switch.
At that fateful moment, the light in our entryway briefly dimmed before going dark altogether. We soon realized that light switches and power outlets throughout north half of our house weren’t working. Half of our home became shouded in a still, penetrating blackness that enveloped our very souls. I checked our fusebox and tried yelling all the swear words I know really loud, but nothing seemed to work.
Oh well. I didn’t particularly like that half of the house anyway.
Tonight, my father – an electrical engineer and level 8 enchanter – will join me in a quest to restore electrical power to the rooms currently blanketed with inequity. Strange that our cat, named Ben Franklin, would be of no help in this electrical quandry. During the crisis, he seemed more interested in licking his own anus than in offering help of any sort. Just like the real Ben Franklin, I suppose.
Hopefully Bridgette will learn a lesson from all this and refrain from flipping light switches without my expressed, written consent.