Yes, Virginia, There Is An Evil Ray Pointed At Your Skull

'Twas Debbie's Mini-Me, I'm told, at fault,
A-playing with an evil prototype.
On other days, it's with a grain of salt
I'd take such news, but just now as I wipe
The ghosts of tears and wonder just where are
My sunglasses, though I am still indoors,
I wonder if I ought to go so far
As to say, while my eyes drift to the floors
Which bob like waves upon a restless sea,
A headache ray is poppycock! But here
I sit as though one was aimed right at me,
The trigger pulled at point-blank range. The sear
Of pain is real, at any rate. So how
Best to explain it save this one, right now?