The monsters and I had an agreement – I brought them things they needed and they didn’t eat me. We formed this truce when I first discovered them living under my bed. 30 years later, they’ve moved out of my room and into the basement but the truce still holds.
While we do have a written, notarized agreement, that stupid piece of paper has heightened my paranoia instead of giving me any peace of mind. I go to bed fully expecting to be awoken by a gentle flurry of pieces of the contract falling onto my body like seasoning as they prepared to eat my face.
I was six when I first discovered them under my bed, which is where they stayed until they moved to the basement when I was in high school. In the dark of night they would growl at me in what I used to think was “monster” but as I got older I realized was Scottish.
When they first appeared they had very specific and horrible requests – a live lamb, my grandmother’s wig, apricot jelly, a baby. When they moved downstairs, their requests became more pedestrian – the newspaper, a box of tissues, the Netflix password – but the consequences remained serious and deadly. If I failed to deliver, they would eat me.
Evans Sometimes I wake up in the morning with bite marks on my toes, just their way of letting me know that they’re serious about holding up their end of the agreement.
My parents were absolutely no help with my situation, calling it “a phase,” “make-believe,” and “shut the hell up about those damn monsters.” There wasn’t much I could do to help my cause either as our contract has a strict “No Photography” clause.
Occasionally when I take something down to them other monsters are visiting or doing various monster things. I give them the universal friendly head nod and try to get on my way (even though I’m really annoyed that all of these strange monsters are in our house without anyone asking or giving any warning). Sometimes a new monster will initiate some sort of conversation and honestly, that sucks. There are few things worse than being trapped talking to a monster with nothing to say.
I’ve tried to talk to my monsters about going our separate ways but well, let’s just say that’s not been a good use of anyone’s time. I did some reading on the subject and even spoke to a couple of lawyers but apparently, the law around monster/human contracts is vague at best.
Over the years I’ve shared my desire with them of starting a family. They just laugh and say it’s an awful idea and that I’d be a terrible parent. They mention the cat. I remind them that they ate the cat which they say only proves their point. And I guess it sort of does. They admit they’ve talked about adopting themselves.
There was a period when I thought that, even though this was my childhood home and monsters aside I did love it, and my best route to freedom might be to move out. I invited several realtors over to view the house but every time, the monsters ate them.
So, we’re at a stalemate, but I won’t be the one to blink. This is what I told myself as I poured over the book I got from the library — “Popular Mechanics Presents: Building an Electric Chair.”
