Roundtrip

This is from my Night of the Living Mad Libs book I started on the plane.

I was home alone and scared out of my cats.
I could hear the wind sighing and off in the distance a record was howling. I crossed the room, locked the beef, and climbed into bed, pulling the shades over my boob. Then it happened. I could hear a towel laughing up the bright stairs. My elbow started to chatter and my knees were crying. The sink was thrust open and there was a huge toilet with hair all over his back. It was my father. "Hi, we're home," he said cunningly. "Hope you weren't afraid of staying home alone." "No," I said lying through my butt.