Murderous Waiter

I'm pretty sure it's haunted. It has literally been following me for days now, and, in spite of it looking so innocent, I am pretty sure it has it in for me and will find a way to get me. Obviously it being at a distinct disadvantage in size, weight, etc., etc., it may take time for it to accomplish its task. But, believe me, it will not stop until it has eliminated me entirely and can take over my life. It first appeared to me next to the couch. It was just sitting there staring at me the entire time, looking innocent as ever. Not feeling especially neat, I brushed it aside instead of picking it up. Was that the slight? Was it that initial brusqueness on my part that turned it against me? The secret to its wiliness is that it is completely clear. It is there when you're looking straight at it, but can easily disappear into obfuscation when your focus is pulled elsewhere. That's when it lies in wait. That's when it plots against you. Soon, you will notice it somewhere completely different. I'm pretty sure I didn't put it there, so this, using pure deduction, means that it does indeed have the capacity to levitate itself–a chess peace, fully aware, moving itself on the board, being where it needs to be so as to anticipate my next move. Like a clear plastic wolf waiting in the shadows. Don't let its dainty innocence fool you. It is after me. First it gets under my skin by showing up everywhere I expect will be soft and pillowy. It would love to scratch me as I inadvertently lay my arm on it. It would love to hurt me but it can't. Like a death of a thousand cuts, it will start by just annoying me. I literally throw it on the floor the first time it attempts this psychological warfare on me. I am determined to not let it have the better of me from the very beginning. The second time, unsatisfied with my arm, it goes for my leg, seeing ahead to the moment where I will put my leg on the settee. It knows just where to be to strike. How it got there I have no idea. And that's just how it likes it, the surprise attack being its favorite kind of attack. It was when it laid its smooth, sleek body on the ground that its first attempt on my actual life was almost successful. I thought it was gone forever, pushed under the rug or the couch. I did not feel sad when I considered I may never see it again. It was then, when I was not on guard, that I stepped on it. My whole being slipped forward. I lost my balance, and careened toward the floor. I avoided a fall only by luck alone. Somehow I remained standing after having flailed about. Determined to not die like this, I picked it up and marched it to the trash. I tried to throw it away three times before actually making it into the bin. It flew away from the opening always at just the last moment. I eventually got it in, though. If it could avoid entrapment, it thought, then it could try to get me some other way on some other occasion. It is probably still thinking that now. Don't worry, it is locked away in the bin. Unless it can transform itself from round and flat to liquid, I'm pretty sure it can't escape. So, I am safe. I mean, I hope I am. I suppose if I hear some rattling in the kitchen before I go to bed, I might get scared, but, for the moment, I am fine. It does seem weird that a yoghurt that is completely encapsulated needs an extra top in addition to the foil that protects the nourishment inside. But, maybe that is its modus operandi. Maybe it manipulated some designer somewhere into making it exist. And now that it does, it wants to kill us. Yeah, I'm pretty sure its not just out to get me. It has little brothers and sisters that lie in wait for you, too. And they'll cleverly try to bring about your demise, too. Beware the yoghurt-top-assasins lying in wait in your refrigerator, my dears, for they are out to get you, whether you acknowledge them or not.