I was lying in bed late last night reading A Storm of Swords while Adam laid next to me playing a game on his phone. I finished a chapter and put the book away, then rolled over and bundled up in the blankets. After a few minutes of laying quietly in the dark, I announced, “I think I’m a warg.”
A full 45 seconds of silence passed before Adam sighed a long and heavy sigh.
“Okay,” he said, “why do you think you’re a warg?”
“Because I can enter Fry’s mind and control him,” I said matter-of-factly.
“That’s not true,” Adam pointed out, “because if you could, Fry would be lying here snuggling with you instead of running around the house.”
It was true that my cat Fry and I spent an inordinate amount of time snuggling. Pretty much every night, I fall asleep with my arms wrapped around Fry like he’s a stuffed toy who purrs and emits a vast quantity of heat.
“That’s what I had planned to do,” I said, “but once I entered his mind I was having too much fun trying to tip over the trashcan.”
“Uh-huh,” Adam said. A few seconds passed before we heard a soft thump come from the kitchen.
“I did it,” I whispered.
Adam sighed and got up to go see what was happening. He came back to the bedroom a few minutes later.
“Well, the good news is that you’re right. You’re a balrog, or whatever.”
“A warg,” I whispered mysteriously.
“Fry tipped over the trashcan, and when I turned on the kitchen light he was eating chips for some reason. I guess he likes chips now.”
“I know why he was eating chips,” I whispered.
Adam sighed. “Is it because…”
“…because I was in his mind.”
“…you were in his mind, right.”
“I love chips.”
“I’m a warg.”
“I know. Goodnight.”