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Discussion Topic:
Monsters
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02-Mar-2006 @ 11:38 AM
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Posts: 177
Joined: May 1999
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Half-Truths By Nils Ling
Another little aside for amusement, come along to hear more at Langley Village Hall on the 8 March 2006 - Tickets £5 from 01434 684084.
Monsters
My brother phoned the other day, just to tell me a couple of jokes and see how everything was in my life. We talk every few months - not a lot for two guys who once almost got killed together by a monster.
He’s my big brother, four years older, and like many big brothers he did his best to make my childhood Hell on Earth. We shared a room, which meant for at least ten hours a day he was Lord and Master of the Known Universe. I had to do his bidding - everything from getting him a glass of water to closing the closet door.
I hated closing the closet door. It scared me, and he knew it. He would deliberately leave it open just to torment me. He’d hop into his top bunk, get under his covers and say “Oh, d*rn, I forgot to close the closet door. Oh, well. It’ll probably be OK ... the monsters are most likely asleep.”
Which is exactly what he did one crisp December night when I was five years old..
I lay in that bottom bunk and fiercely told myself, “Not this time. He left it open, he can close it. I’m tired of him always being the boss of me.” I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. He leaned over the edge of his bunk, grinning evilly.
“Although, I thought I heard some rustling in there when I walked by. Probably nothing.” His bullet head disappeared and I could almost hear him smirking.
I held out for awhile. But when you’re five years old, your imagination is your best friend and your worst enemy.
Of course I crumbled. I got up and stomped across the room to safely close the door, which was when he delivered the mortal blow: “Unless, of course, that rustling came from ... the monster under the bed. Better be careful of your ankles coming back.”
(That’s what the Under-the-bed Monster does … it grabs your ankles with its sharp pointy claws so it can pull you under and chow down at its leisure.)
Well, I did the only thing I could. I dashed across the darkened room and leapt from about six feet away. But it was dark in that room. I misjudged, came in too high - and smashed my head into the rail of the top bunk. It opened up a huge gash - I still have the scar. I hit the floor with a resounding thud, dazed and disoriented. My arm flopped under the bed.
When my brother looked over the edge of his bunk, that's what he saw ... me, bleeding profusely around the head, lying on the floor, arm under the bed. He screamed, convinced there actually was a monster and now it was in the process of dragging me under.
I looked up, saw the terror in his eyes, and I screamed right back, positive that he saw the monster creeping up on me out of the dark.
Well, he thought I was looking past him, at some other monster creeping up from behind him, so he turned round to see what horrible creature was going to rip his lungs out ... and lost his balance.
He fell out of that top bunk, tumbling in slow motion through space. He landed beside me, and for the rest of my life I will remember the snap of his wrist breaking as he hit the floor. He screamed, I screamed, both our worlds - real and imaginary - a riot of pain and terror.
Which is, of course, when my dad burst through the door, a huge hulking creature framed by the light behind him. We screamed again, and only stopped when we heard that familiar voice roar: “What in God’s name is going on in here?”
We began sobbing and babbling at him about monsters and sharp teeth and claws and blood ... and he snapped on the light. He looked down at the two of us and just shook his head sadly.
That was the year I got a room of my own. It was great. All the old monsters stayed in my brother's room, hoping for one more chance at a tasty little boy. They were his problem now.
Of course, the new room had its own monsters, and they've stayed with me over the years. One of them still lives under my bed to this day. I don’t tell my wife that’s the reason I jump into bed from three feet away. I mean, really, I’m not a kid.
But I’ve kept some kid stuff in my life. I close the closet door at night and I never dangle my feet over the edge of the bed too long. Because while they enjoy the taste of nine-year-old boys, and adore five-year-olds ... everybody knows that monsters prefer little boys in their forties best of all.
(Nils Ling is a playwright and broadcaster living in Prince Edward Island. His one-man show “The Truth About Daughters” is being presented Langley Village Hall at 7:30pm on the 8 March 2006. Further information and tickets from Jane Brown on 01434 684084.)
_________________
Ed Brown
www.solid-us.com
www.go-britain.com
Ed Brown
www.go-britain.com
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