You hear a polite knock on the door . The closet door .

Despite Tom's propensity for sleeping like a newborn, the familiar sound of the knock, in a somewhat Pavlovian fashion, woke him in near blinding rage. He was no stranger to this sound, as these nighttime incidents had been going on for weeks, and he had no explanation for it. This time, however, he vowed it would be the last. 
 
 `` Please do n't make a fuss this time, dear.'' he heard from his wife. She kept her eyes closed, eager to fall back asleep before the paranoia kept her up. 
 
 `` Do n't worry, honey, this wo n't take long.'' Tom said, grabbing the 9mm from his underwear drawer. 
 
 He crept over and swung open the door, revealing a vast, snowy landscape. In normal circumstances, this would seem absurd, but Tom was no stranger to this, as his eyes and trigger finger promptly met between the eyes of the weird half goat man standing in the doorway. 
 
 `` Please, Mr. Pevensie! We need your children's help! Our world is in great danger!'' squeaked the petrified goat man. 
 
 `` Do not threaten to kidnap my children! If you even think of knocking on this goddamn door again, I'll blow your little hoof off!'' 
 
 The goat man ran away in terror, shouting incoherently, although Tom could swear he was saying `` Ass-Land'' over and over again. He shut the door, slipped the gun away, and crawled back into bed. 
 
 `` Really, Tom, this is a matter the police would best be suited for.'' his wife said. 
 
 `` Do you honestly think they're going to believe any of this absurdity?''
