At 12:30 a.m. my alarm goes off. Now, I know I didn’t set my alarm. I know my wife didn’t set the alarm. And I’m damn sure Lazer didn’t set the alarm. “Trick or treat,” SEAL says. He’s sitting in my room on a chair four feet from my bed in his running gear. I think he’s eating a banana. I rub my eyes to make sure I’m not dreaming, and, sadly, I’m not. I’m more freaked out than the first time I saw Silence of the Lambs. The only way this could be worse is if he told me to put the lotion in the basket.
