Toyebox Collection:Bedtime Stories

Catching the Limp -Toed Hazerbeast

     Catching the Limp-Toed  Hazerbeast

“Maximillion William Humphrey! Go to your room.” That is what I always hear. Now I sit in the dark, on my chair, by myself again. I don’t mind though, I have gotten used to it over the years. After all, I’m eight years old and have spent the last six in the corner, in my room, or grounded.

            I bet you think that I’m scared; scared of the dark, scared of monsters in my closet. Well I’m not. I face something more frightening than anything that could possibly live in my closet. I face something every-day that would give the hairiest, slimiest monster nightmares.

            Her name is Emily, she is sixteen years old, and she is my older sister. That is why I am here, in trouble and alone in my bedroom.

            It was the Humphrey’s seventeenth annual family reunion. Everyone had made it this time, even Aunt Edna with her “I’m better than you” attitude was here. We sit at the dining room table, enjoying a large feast and listening to Uncle Ray babble about the war.

            Mom was sitting in her usual spot, as far away from Uncle Ray as possible. Then it happened. The whole dining room changed in the blink of an eye. Emily let one rip, echoing through the wooden seat, and disrupting everyone’s fine meal.

            Of course, she was the first one to speak up, sealing my fate.

            “Max! That’s so gross!” Then mom had to speak up.

            “What do you say, Max?”

            I knew what I did next would be the difference between “in trouble” and “oops, sorry”.

            If I was smart, I would have let it go. I would have said “excuse me” and things would have been perfectly fine. I guess I am too stubborn for that. I assume most eight-year-old boys would do the same thing if put in my situation.

            “It wasn’t me Mom, honest. Smell it. Smell it Mom, it smells like broccoli, you know I don’t eat broccoli! It was Emily! She had broccoli earlier. Do you remember the broccoli from earlier, Mom? It was her, not me.”

            “Maximillion William Humphrey! Go to your room!” I slumped my shoulders and started to go upstairs. Then an idea formulated in my mind. I should have learned my lesson by now, but, as I mentioned, I’m stubborn.

On my way through, I managed to burp as much of the alphabet as I could squeeze out before Mom snapped.

            “That’s it Mister, you’re grounded! No toys or anything fun for a week! Now go to your room and stay there!”

            It’s funny how things can change in an instant, all of a suddenly, Mom’s voice got really deep and slowed way down. Fire shot out of her eyes, smoke came bellowing out of her nose, her long brown hair parted, revealing the horns hiding beneath.

            Uncle Ray dropped his food on his plate, his hot gaze burning holes in my head and stealing the soul from my body. Emily laughed an evil laugh, making my skin crawl and my hair stand on end.

            Well, I guess I imagined all of it. Except for Emily that is, she really did give an evil laugh, I really did have hairs standing at attention.

            I marched up the stairs, slamming the door behind me in protest. She’s in for it now, I thought. I did what everyone else would do. I wrote an angry letter.