Also Maine, and the future

Some fears I harbor, which I lay squarely at the feet of Stephen King: 

--Small towns, especially idyllic ones. The more perfect the place, the more certain I am that I'm going to be devoured by needle-toothed frogs, or abducted into the audience for a neverending concert by dead rock stars, or menaced by an antique truck or something. Bad scene all around.

--Clowns. Maybe they're just vaguely creepy and totally depressing and unfunny, but maybe they're interdimensional beings that will become your worst fear and eat you alive. 

--Random doom of the right place/wrong time scenario. Thanks to Steve-o, you never know -- you might've just boarded a plane that never left yesterday and is going to be destroyed at the molecular level while you wait, or chosen a lunch spot with a waiter who's been going crazy for awhile and happens to be about to machete some people to death today, or gotten a big old snootful of a deadly virus that's gonna kill you and 99 percent of the rest of humanity.

--Nevada. If it ain't the Devil, it's a psycho cop or some sort of ancient motherfuckin curse or other. Either way, you're gonna get torn limb from limb at the very least.

--Very bad things happening to the Achilles tendon while you stand by your bed. A nice specificity within the general "something under the bed" fear, don't you think? 

--Cornfields. I think that's all I need to say.