Be-Itching Hour!

Ever have one of those nights where you lie in bed and everything just starts … itching? Almost immediately? And no matter what you do, you just can’t get it to stop? You scratch and you squirm … you toss, you turn, you flip around feverishly in an attempt to stop the itch, just stop the itch, stop the itch stop the itch stoptheitchstoptheitch, stop the motherflyingfucking itch???
I think my skin is literally trying to crawl off my body. Either that or those millions/trillions/jillions of mini-microscopic itchy bastard bugs that they say coat our bodies and our eyelashes are removing my skin, inch by itch, and tomorrow when/if I wake up, I’ll go to pinch myself to see if I was just dreaming the itchfest, only to find my fingers, mere bones, squishing around noisily in a gushy, bloody pile of viscera and mismatched pajamas.
And now I will attempt to get back to bed before I reach the point of no return. Or else I’ll be a wicked (b)itch on wheels in the morning.