I know the terror is hard for you to imagine, what with the pleasant smile she sports, the tufts of golden white hair on her head, and the soft velour track suit, but it was bone chilling terror I experienced. Moments before I was hacked into pieces by Betty White, I drifted out of the dream. I realized that I was safe in my bed, but the reality of the dream was so strong that I spent several minutes under my covers considering a few important questions as my heart rate returned to normal:
- Is Betty White really a serial killer?
- Is Betty White really my grandmother-in-law?
- Does Anderson Cooper know about any of this?
- I'm safe now, but is it possible that Betty White is standing at the foot of my bed with an axe?
All day long I've been a little off balance. I mean, if you can't trust Betty White, who can you trust?