The monster under the bed

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“I’m the monster under the bed,” the boy cried.

“That’s nice,” said Mom. “What makes you a monster?”

“Well, I – I roar and I scare little boys.”

“You ARE a little boy,” she said. “Do you scare yourself?”

He looked thoughtful. “Sometimes.”

This gave Mom pause.

“Why do you scare yourself?”

“Well – that’s what monsters do! I wouldn’t be much of a monster if I didn’t scare myself sometimes.”

“OK, how do you scare people?”

“I don’t want to scare YOU, Mom.”

“Oh, come on, I like being scared.”

“You do?”

“It can be fun.”

“Well – I eat them.”

“You eat people?”


“How do you get your mouth big enough to eat someone?”

“I think that’s what scares them.”

“Oh, this I gotta see.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Come on, son, scare me.”

“You won’t like it.”

“I promise, I’ll like it. It sounds cute.”

“Well, OK.”

Dad came home a few hours later.

“Where’s Mom?” he asked the little boy, who shrugged and crawled under the bed.

“What are you doing under the bed, son?”

“Come see.”