The Newspaper Article

I was reading "The Daily Bugle" with a deep, pink teacup full of coffee and hazelnut creme in my grasp. The carnation pink saucer that perfectly matched its accompaniment held my demitasse spoon; until I placed it in my coffee and began to idly stir it as I read this most compelling story.

" Four nights ago, a mysterious personage entered my home. It subsisted on my food,my house, and my personal affairs;my husband did not know, although it touched him at night.It's surreptitious style grazed the floor and left powder blue polka-dots. Everyday it took something out of my house,out of my life; I told no one, I didn't even pray. When my daughter had finished her excellent cookies that were to be entered in the 'Baker Hill, Baker Girl Contest', they disappeared, and I only said,'O Honey, we'll find another.'

What was this subterfuge; was this idiocy?
What?

Yet I continued to comfortably live with a mysterious, perhaps demonic, attacker."
At this point, my eyes had already been bugged out, but now they were literally resting on the lining of my eyesockets in disbelief. Not until I took a sip of my coffee, did I pick up the paper and read again.
" Had my soul been subverted,you may ask? Had my wisdom; if any, been demented?
I figured that synergy would be ideal, so I told my husband to stay up at night, but in reality I cajoled him to stay up;by any means neccessary. I made him his favorite foods, put on his favorite movies, played music; I made myself regurgitate, I gave myself irrepressible hiccups; you do get my drift? I was a half-demented woman."

I tried to sympathize with this woman; but I could not even fathom the montrosity she had found herself living in. At anyday, could that happen to me?(Her mental distress definitely giving me the most distress). But wait a minute," He shall keep me in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Him;He shall give His Angels charge over me to keep me in all my ways." My God shall take care of me.
" My husband went to sleep at 5:00 A.M. As I went to get a glass of milk,I saw again the mysterious visitor,no, my glasses were not on; but I saw him. He grabbed my hand and pushed me back to bed.( Was I hallucinating?)I sullied my clothes on the way,as I made a desperate attempt to jump out the screen door, to the garden. My supple limbs had hit the dirt; not the walkway.I already had a surfeit of fear, so I turned around and said,'Who are you?'
The masked murderer pulled off his spurious face and said,'Hi Honey, I'm home.'

It was my husband!"

At this I stopped,I could read no further. This spurious deluge had taken over my morning. Alright,I will admit that the interest in the story was mine; but why was this listed as an article of truth when it was nothing but a specious yarn?