The nighttime criminal syndicate continues in the bedroom since the Blanket Thief has joined forces with another. You see, I am now being assaulted in my sleep. These are not tiny shoves to restrain one from accidentally pulling hair—I am being pummeled continuously amid my tranquility.

First, it started with an elbow jab to the side. I did not give it notice, assuming it was part of the hustle and bustle of active sleep. Now, I’m regularly violated by a firm knee in my coccyx, a mauling by some sort of talon, and regular wallops from a clenched fist. The wounds are occasionally visible on the surface but below they linger. I’m certain the Blanket Thief has now joined forces with whom I will call, The Flounder. The Flounder flips around allegedly in her sleep. My serene sea of slumber is agitated by currents of churning change and limbs spinning akimbo and uncontrollably against me.

I use pillows to protect me from further victimhood but find the joined forces are too insidious. I seek refuge.