Oh deer

Saturday night I graciously accepted the offer of a ride home, seeing as both my roommates and most of the people I would have called to hang out with were also out of town. Driving south on 63 sometime after midnight, the conversation turned to alternate realities and immortal consciences. Speaking of alternate realities and the like always makes me somewhat uneasy or unsettled. I rather enjoy discussing that particular topic; however, there is always a level of subconscious discomfort, as if I expected giant bug-eyed monsters to jump out of nowhere and eat me. It was in the midst of such a discussion that a deer happened to cross our path. Caught in my deep thoughts about time paradoxes or some such, I didn't notice it until my friend, who was driving, began breaking, at which point I looked up and through the windshield and let out a blood-curdling scream that sounded somewhat like "YYEEEEEAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOHHHH SHIT!" As the amorphous blob of sound was tearing out of my mouth, the following silent train of thoughts ensued:

"What the FUCK is that thing?! It's huge and it came out of nowhere! Why am I so afraid of it? I think I must be watching too much Buffy; demons don't exist in the real world. Man, I'm screaming kind of loudly. And my scream is really high-pitched. I hate how high-pitched my voice is. Why am I still screaming? I probably just scared the shit out of [my friend]. Oh wait a minute, that's just a deer. And we're not even going to hit it. Wow, I just flipped out over a deer. I feel so stupid."

And then the screaming stopped. I apologized profusely for potentially scaring the driver so much that we would, indeed, have wrecked, and also for being such a pussy about a deer. Man, I felt retarded.

In other news, there is nothing that feels more like home than a bookshelf full of books.