Searching through the refrigerator for something good to drink, Dave mentally rejected milk, orange juice, and beer before finally deciding on another chocolate Yoo-hoo. He unscrewed the cap and took a long drink, draining half the bottle. Starsky sighed in satisfaction. Before he could raise the bottle to take another drink, the lights began to flicker.
Setting his drink down on the counter, Starsky walked to his spare bedroom to check the circuit breaker. Finding everything in perfect working order, he headed back toward the kitchen. To his relief, the flickering stopped. That relief was short-lived, however, when he reached for his drink and the bottle began to inch its way across the counter—all by itself.
I'm still dreaming. I must still be dreaming. I'll pinch myself and wake up still in bed.
"Ouch!" Starsky rubbed his arm where he'd pinched himself. To his dismay, he was still standing in his kitchen and the Yoo-hoo bottle was now zigzagging to and fro. Suddenly, the television in the living room turned on. Then off.
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
On.
Starsky dived for the phone.
" 'lo?"
"Hutch! It's me. You gotta get over to my place."
"Wha? Uhh, why?"
"More weird stuff's goin' down."
"Starsk, I told you you were dreaming it, remember?"
"Hutch, I'm serious! Maybe somebody rigged my place or something. I dunno. Just get over here and help me look."
"Starsky . . ."
"You owe me. Remember last week when I stayed late to file that report because you had a date?"
Fighting a yawn, Hutch muttered, "All right, fine. I'll be there as soon as I can."
The white noise from the static-filled television suddenly became deafening.
"Hurry!"
TBC . . .