When you get home, you decide to microwave some popcorn and mainline the original Battlestar Galactica TV show via Netflix. Because, why not?
You settle in on the sofa, a chilled liter of Diet Coke next to you, and begin. So far, so good. The plot is fairly ridiculous, but the women are awfully pretty and so are a couple of the men. You've seen worse. Lorne Greene is not half bad as Commander Adama, either, despite the eyebrows. Maybe you should invent a drinking game around the word 'yaron,' since you snort every time you hear it.
You're four episodes in and munching on a grilled cheese sandwich when you hear this strange rushing, whining sound, like yowm-yowm-yowm-yowm… It's rising in pitch, and reminds you an awful lot of an airplane in a nosedi—
No fucking way. In the sanctity of your own home? Who in the Hell is responsible for that? Who can you chase down and haunt until the end of time?
Well, this completely sucks. Maybe you wish you'd tried one of the adventures after all?