And today on handpuppet theater..

"Why are you awake, Sam? It's 5am, you don't have to be up til 8:30."
"I don't know, Bob. Why are you awake?"
"Ehn. Same old, same old."
"Bitch can't sleep?"
"Bitch can't sleep. She needs to take a pill or something, I swear."
"Not so sure about that, Bob. Remember the last time? When she couldn't breathe? She found out why the word 'ephederine' exists in psudoephederine. She was jitterbugging off the walls."
"That's because she had 120mg of sudafed and chugged a vanilla frappuccino, Sam."
"There's a thought. Did she have coffee yesterday?"
"No, pretty sure she didn't. None came my way, anyhow. Yours?"
"Nah, none here either. Hm. Strange."
"Probably insomnia again."
"You're probably right. At least she slept last night, though."
"Yeaaaah.. she gets weird when she doesn't sleep at all. This whole waking up wicked early thing has got to go. I need my beauty sleep. I'm not getting any younger!"
"Oh shush. You look fine. Be truthful - you'd miss our little talks."
"That's true, Sam. I'd miss them. Do you think she knows about our chats?"
"Couldn't rightly say. I'm not sure how much attention she ever pays to what her hands are doing."

Me: *intones* I'm wattttchiiiiing yooooou..

"AAGH! Run, Sam! Run! Save yourself!"
"Aieeeeeeeeeee!" *flutters; flees*
Me: *noms on right hand with loud chomping noise*
"AUUUGH! She got me! I'm dying! Oh, cruel world.. but at least I got to see Sam.. one.. last.. time.. enk!"


... I need a hobby. I should not be allowed to be awake this early, ever.