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By Root 282 0

around that?”). Perhaps it could be worse; my friend Rick, after a night of restful, peaceful Ambien sleep, woke up and climbed out of bed, only to notice that his underwear, which had been on him when he climbed into bed half an hour after taking his pill, was gone. It remained a mystery until he left for work an hour later, when he found his briefs on the sidewalk that led to the garage.

So I suppose that she could be worse and get behind the wheel of a car, go on an all-you-can-eat binge at IHOP, or take a stroll around the neighborhood while leaving her panties behind in the driveway. Right? Things could be worse, right? I mean, essentially, Ambien is you in an altered state, kind of like the twilight sleep that women of my mother’s generation were given when they went into labor. And, for that matter, I am thrilled that when I wake up all I find is pretzel shards on my bathroom mat or cookie crumbs on my face and not a bassinet next to my bed with an offspring in it who expects me to pay for college.

I just hope I don’t have another nighttime family somewhere.

Whatever. Ambien Laurie is not so bad. She’s really not. She’s just active. Would it be better if she sat around, calling people to tell them that she loved them, like every average alcoholic? Bo-ring. Big deal. Who can’t do that? Ambien Laurie is an innovator; she has taken the nighttime to a new level. So sometimes she eats on the potty. Who cares? It’s basically like any other chair in the house, it just has more options.

I’m getting a little hungry. Feels like snack time. If I’m not mistaken, that remaining cheese cracker sandwich is still on the table in the hall. She talks big about throwing shit away; she never does, and of course I’m going to eat it. Of course I’m going to eat it!! But not all of it. I’ll only eat half of it and leave the other half under her pillow. That’ll get her all worked up.

Hey, Mr. Grunt. How’s it goin’? Wanna watch Precious?

No, I don’t wanna bite. Gotta cracker in the hall. Keep the burrito in your shirt, please.

Listen, we’re not watching Gran Torino again. I hope that’s not going to be a problem. ’Cause I’ll eat your face off. I’m cool, either way.

You make the call.

The Fart Chart

Fig. 214

This Is MY Town

Origin: Grilled meat

Culprit: Cowboys, the bald, people who wear leather jackets

Habitat: Poker tables, Lincoln Continentals, deserted lots in New Jersey

Fig. 381

The Gambler

Origin: Fast food

Culprit: Kenny Rogers, wrestling fans

Habitat: Trucks that weigh more than houses

Outstanding qualities: You gotta know when to hold ’em, fold ’em, know when to walk away and when to run

Fig. 307

The Nail Gun

Origin: Doritos, mixture of domestic and imported beers, items of deep-fried nature

Culprit: Musicians, construction workers, Mormons

Habitat: Futons, under Mexican blankets, old carpeting

Fig. 195

The Scream

Origin: Exotic cuisine, mostly unidentified, hooves, snouts

Culprit: MBAs, Olympic athletes, missionaries

Habitat: Hostels, brothels, China

Fig. 335

Brown Egg

Origin: Sugar-free chocolates with maltitol

Culprit: Secretaries, insurance adjustors, teens

Habitat: Pampered chef parties, cubicles

Outstanding qualities: Danger is enormous in high-profile situations

Fig. 333

Fiber One

Origin: Any product compressing 20% of daily fiber into a geometric shape

Culprit: Women in their 40s

Habitat: Crosswalks, TJ Maxx, elevators

Outstanding qualities: Is never alone; has many cousins trailing in packs

Fig. 171

Coward

Origin: Juicy Juice, Ritz Bits, Fruit Roll-Ups

Culprit: Babies, John Boehner, the comatose

Habitat: Car seats, hospice, tanning booths

Fig. 274

The Monk

Origin: Soy products, gluten-free muffins, lactose-free yogurt

Culprit: All residents of Seattle

Habitat: Yoga class, Whole Foods

Outstanding qualities: Can emit three tones at once with perfect pitch

Fig. 345

Little Mouse

Origin: Cheese, particularly spray, boxed, or jarred

Culprit: Dogs, 7th-grade math teachers, uncles

Habitat: Teachers’ lounge, comic-book stores, your pillow