“Tick Tock!” proclaims the clock
My closet opens up a crack
A shadow whisks out, my eyes losing track
He’s back, that frightful little fellow
I clench the sheets as my skin turns yellow
I soon hear a peculiar wet rip
And at about that time, I’m wondering about acid trips
Half-past 3 AM, a red, leathery hand grips my calf
My eyes shut tight as he starts to laugh
I wake up nose to nose with the scrawny thing called Ticker
He gnaws on my lips, wearing a favorite snicker