Afraid of the Red Man

The other night, we watched "Captain America." Then it was time for bed. I am sleeping in Nicole's trundle during this break, and when I got up to her room, I was sad to see that there was just a sheet on my bed :(

I sniffled. "Nicole?" I said.

"Yes, Heather."

"I'm just wondering if you know where my quilt is," I said meekly.

She informed me that I had left it downstairs. I balked. I hate going to the basement all alone!

"Why don't you just go down and get it?" said Nicole insensitively.

I sighed and pulled my sheet up under my chin. "Brrr," I said pointedly.

No response. I began to panic. My mom has been known to set the thermostat at 62* in the wintertime! I had to do something or I would surely freeze!

"Nicooool?"

"Heather! Why don't you just go get it?" Nicole suggested.

"I can't," I said in despair.

"Heather," Nicole said kindly. "Are you afraid of the red man?"

For those who haven't seen it, the badguy in Captain America is bright red and pulls his own face off at one point, and he looks like Darth Mal and Voldemort had a baby.

I was not afraid of the red man. But I said, "Ye-es. So, Nicole, would you pleeeease go downstairs with me to get my quilt? I'm so afraid!"

Nicole went on to explain why I shouldn't be afraid of the red man. I sighed dramatically. I told her she was right. I hunkered down in my thin sheet.

"So you can go by yourself," Nicole finished cheerfully.

I assured her it was fine. I shivered a little for effect. And just when I thought my snot would turn into icicles, Nicole (or Super-Nico, as she is affectionately called) got out of bed, sniffed in annoyance, and went downstairs.

I felt very grateful as I listened to her steps go down the stairs. What a wonderful sister! She was so thoughtful and kind all the time!

I heard silence and I knew she was going downstairs even further, to the basement. I began to feel a little triumphant. Nicole was the best, but I was just as awesome! I had persuaded her to get my quilt! Maybe I was a little obnoxious. Some people might even say I had been annoying. But now I was going to get my quilt. And I was going to be toasty warm. And I didn't have to go downstairs to get it all by myself.

My life was looking pretty darn charmed.

But then, Nicole got back upstairs. She stood at the head of my bed. I saw in her arms a pile that was unmistakably my quilt. I felt so happy and content in that moment.

And then she threw that quilt down on my face. And I think it broke my nose. And my nose looked like this.

Or maybe this. (The one on the left).

And now I'm worried that one day, it will look like this.

So the moral of this story is. You should really just get your own blankets from the basement, even if you are a lazy terd. Because if you don't, you might turn into Michael Jackson when a kind deed turns mean on accident.