Monsters Don’t Just Hide Under The Bed

My Grandma didn’t die the way grandmas are supposed to, like from cancer or a heart attack.  My Grandma was eaten by a monster.

I tried to warn her that there was a monster living upstairs in her guest room closet, but she wouldn’t listen.  Grown ups never want to listen to kids when we try to talk to them about scary things.  They just want to blame it on our imagination or something we watched on television.

“Please don’t make me sleep in here,” I begged her on that fateful night.  “I don’t want the monster to get me.”

“What monster?” she asked.

“The one in there,” I said as I pointed to the closet.

Grandma looked in the direction I was pointing, then back at me and said, “I thought monsters lived under the bed?”

“You shouldn’t joke about stuff like that, Grandma.  Making fun of it will only make the monster mad, and then we’ll really be in trouble.”

“I’m sorry,” she told me.  “What makes you think there’s a monster in the closet?”

“Because, I’ve seen the curtain that covers it blowing at all hours of the day.  And I’ve heard someone moaning in there, too.  ‘Woo, woo, woo!’ it cries.”

“Oh silly, that’s just the wind.  This old farm house of mine was built before insulation was invented, so any gust of wind blows straight through the walls.”

She could tell by the look on my face that I wasn’t convinced, and that’s why she made the offer that got her killed.

“I’ll tell you what.  How about I look inside the closet for you?”      !

“Don’t, Grandma.  Don’t…please.”

“It will be fine.  Here…,” she said as she approached the closet.  “I’ll start by sticking my hand in.  See?  No monster.  Now watch, I’ll put my head in.  Nothing.  Now I’ll go all the way in and…ah!!!  Ah!!!! Ah!!!  Nathan!  Call 911!  Call 911!  Ahhhhh!!!!”

I ran downstairs as fast as I could and called for help.  It took awhile for the firemen to arrive; likely because a four-year-old made the call and, you know, grown ups never listen to a word we say.

“Don’t worry, little man,” the first fireman said to me.  “We’ll find your grandma.  You said that she stepped into this clos…ah!  Ah!!!  Ah!!!!  Fred, call for back up!  It’s eating me alive!!!”

It wasn’t just Grandma who died that day.  One fireman, two policemen, an ambulance driver, and a man from the newspaper died before everyone finally decided to believe me.

Let this be a lesson to you all of you grown ups.  When a kid tells you there’s a monster in his room, then there’s a monster in his room.


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