Caught in Bed!

No, Yo, literally caught inside the bed: trapped below the box spring’s stapled on sheet,
conversing with the wooden interstices and sich
(Reader, there are no actual springs in this box spring).

[Though by Rite there should be Spring(s) -- ed.]

[You’re really pushing it -- other ed.]

[Don’t take such a tone, all right? -- ed.]

Can we get back to The Smee, please! If I can remember that far back,
I believe he was caught in a box spring.

A quick rending of the polyester (and thus non-proverbial)
veil freed The Smee -- and all of us -- from (mental) slavery.

[And hopefully, too, from too many parenthetical interruptions -- ed.]