Big Brother

I read her diaries,

Her journals with pink ink,

Looking for something a bit more red and sinister.

I tapped her phone calls about boys and toys,

Listening for terrorists and attacks.

I suppose I'm a bit paranoid,

Storing her favorite candies, canned foods, and soda in the cellar,

And isulating the room with concrete.

But she'll thank me one day,

When disaster finally strikes this 'burb in the middle of nothing important,

and she'll finally remove the restraining order.