I thought it was weird a few weeks ago when I came home and found the candle on my table lit. Creepy. Who was in my house? My dogs don't know how to light candles.
So, even stranger when I come home after a night in Denver to find my futon mattress unrolled, my bed linens ruffled, and all hell has broken loose in my bathroom. A picture from my living room displayed as the backdrop to two bucking My Little Ponies and little sticky bees dotting the mirror in the background. What kind of a freak sets up a sordid scene such as this in my bathroom?
I rush downstairs in a panic to find a photo that I do not own displayed among my own photography. And sinking to my knees, I scream, "WHAT HAS HAPPENED?!?!?! What has happened?"
Returning to my bedroom... once a place of solace and comfort... I find my camera. It contains all the evidence I need. Two youth have invaded the privacy of my home and donning my sacred weiner costume, taken seductive photos of themselves in my shower. I feel empty.