I think I need to start writing my life as more of an exciting adventure and that way I'll be even more fascinating than I already am, and I know what you're thinking. "Kurt," you think "How would YOU ever be more fascinating? They would have to invent a new number, and it would be called 'Pew!Pew!Pew!' so that whenever someone says 'How fascinating is Kurt?' the correct answer would be 'Pew! Pew! Pew!' like lasers from the Star War." and then I would be all "Well you're right, but I am far too humble and attractive to allow them to make a new number just for me." and then you would just sort of tilt your head and stare at me in awed reverence until it became awkward and I would yell "Say it don't spray it!" and throw sand in your eyes like dirty street fighters do, and you would be super-confused, and then I'd be all "Sorry. I meant 'Take a picture it would last longer!'" and then I would throw down some flash powder and disappear in a cloud of smoke but you couldn't see it because of all the sand. There's like nothing I can't fix with flash powder.
So here goes my adventure:
The room is dark and cool. The thin light traipsing through the blinds is casting useless shadows against the wall. I'm laying as still as I can, praying they don't hear. My heart is hammering in my chest and sweat is standing out on my forehead. Terror and panic, wrestle with each other trying to topple the wall of stillness I'm working so hard to maintain, trying to force me to run. But I will myself to remain still. A pair of soulless footsteps drum a thin timpani down the hallway just outside the door. I hold my breath for fear of the tattle-tale sound it will make. The steps drift off down the hall and I exhale. The sun continues to rise and now the light is less feeble and I can see my surroundings more clearly. The room looks disorganized and like perhaps a group of homeless people have been squatting in it. Still I don't move as phantom noises drift under the door. I'm looking for a way out before the footsteps come back and I have to make a decision. I swallow hard, scared now but ready for what comes next. Suddenly an alarm sounds and then the foot falls grow until they are right outside the door. The pounding begins and I can see the thin hollow door flexing where the latch is. They'll be in within a minute. And they call out to me...taunting. "Dad! Are you going to get up or what? Seriously. I'm going to miss the bus if I have to make my own lunch! Get up!"
I was going to throw some flash powder at this point in the story but when I tried to do it in practice, I accidentally set part of my mattress on fire. They should put warnings on flash powder if you ask me. Like "Warning! Does not really make you disappear so don't try robbing a bank and then using this to escape because unless have a real escape laid out you are going to get caught and maybe that stupid DA is still mad about the time you broke into his car and took a dump on the passenger seat, but how were you supposed to know it was HIS car? so now he's totally going to prosecute you to the full extent of the law"