So a strange little occurrence happened at our house last night, and well, it was hilarious.
My husband and I were watching tv in bed, like we always do, Elementary to be exact. We find Sherlock’s voice so calming that it makes us drowsy, my husband asked, “Is someone fixing food? I smell hot dogs?” It was 10:30 at night.
“It’s not hot dogs, I smell peanut butter,” I said.
The smell gets more intense.
We get up and go to the kitchen. Nope. The lights were off and no one was there. Back to the bedroom we go. The odor grows. Then hissing fills the room. We are old and can’t really hear as well as we used to.
“Is it coming from the walls?” One of us yells.
A few months ago one of our cat’s brought a babby bunny in the house, made an awful racket. At the time I thought it was a racoon, my husband thought it was our dog’s squeaker toy. I checked the floors.
No, no baby rabbit or vermin of any kind.
The hissing gets louder, the smell of hot dogs and peanut butter gets stronger, then smoke pours from the tv. By this time we are shouting at each other. The dog had jumped on the bed looking startled. He was probably remembering the last time a bizarre sound occurred and thought we were again under attack by another rabid bunny. Then, like some horror movie, the TV promptly shuts off. The hissing stops. The scent of hot dogs, peanut butter, and smoke still hangs in the air.
By this time we’d put two and two together and figured the TV blew up, here we were beginning to believe we had a hot dog-peanut butter-eating poltergeist on our hands, instead it was a theatrical dying TV.
But, just to be sure, we placed the possessed TV outside.
(Oh, and the bunny was fine by the way.)