Late Night Visitor

Late Night Visitor

“Daddy, can I get in bed with you and mommy?”

Nothing like being woke up by your three year old at 2:53 A.M. anyone else in the whole world would get an ass chewing, but your little sweetheart, well it doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.

“Get up here.” As I lift all of her 35 pounds into the bed.

“What’s going on?” I think she was watching some cartoons when she fell asleep, so maybe she was having a nightmare.

“I fell out of bed, and there was a monster under the bed.” Imagine that, a monster in her room! Just as I had suspected, an evil thought, left over from whatever Halloween cartoon that was on the boob tube as she slipped into dreamland.

“Tell you what, don’t wake mommy, and I’ll go take a look, then you can go back to bed.” I really needed a drink and to take a piss. During this process I could do some reconnaissance, clear the area, and return to my own personal dream world.

Sweetie loved that idea, “Okay daddy, you talk to him, and make him leave. I’ll go back to my room. But he said he was hungry, but he didn’t like baby, “the other white meat”.”

I don’t know where, “baby, the other white meat”, came from. I simply chalk it up to the television influence and got out of the bed.

“Baby, don’t wake mommy up, and I’ll be right back after I get this straightened out with the monster.”

I left the room, walked down the corridor. I looked into the cuties room; of course there was nothing to be seen. I walked through the living room, stopping at the security panel by the front door. It was set and activated, with only a green light showing, so there was no one in the house who shouldn’t be.

The dog was snoring in the laundry room, as I entered the kitchen. I took a glass from the cabinet and drew some water. Nothing like a little tap water at 3:00 AM to help promote a healthy return to dream world. I put the empty glass on the counter, expecting to use it in two hours with breakfast.

“Harley, you are a hell of a watch dog.” He seemed to enjoy my sharp wit, especially working on his sleeping persona. He rolled over and passed a wee bit of gas to express his pleasure.

On that harmonious note, I headed back to my bedroom, and more specifically, the master bath, to empty my bladder.

                     

On my way to the shitter to finish my unscheduled nocturnal business, I pass through my bedroom. “Daddy, the monster is in the bathroom.”

“Of course he is, he wasn’t in your room when I checked there.” I have decided, at this juncture, that I will really play up the whole monster angle. “Honey, I’ve checked the rest of the house.” Not really, but what 3 year old would understand that I’ve currently got only two things on my mind, no not beer and guns, close but no cigar. I only want some water and to drain the main vein. Then I’ll be back sawing logs. “Honey, I’ll check in the bathroom now.”

The bathroom does not look any out of the ordinary. Not that any bathroom would look extraordinary at 3:00 AM, but it looks just like my bathroom always looks.

So I step up to the toilet, take little Willie out, and start to piss. I notice a slight glow emanating from down under the tank. “Son of a bitch”, I mutter to no one in particular. The kid’s monster sure is small if that is what she’s talking about, she seems to be able to take lights, glow in the dark toothbrushes, passing cars, and anything else that passes in the night and change it into a monster.

I just hope, that whatever the monster consists of I haven’t pissed on it, since my night aim isn’t always the best.

I finish draining Larry the Lap Lizard, shake off, and put him away. I bend over to get whatever toy is glowing under the tank. My hand brushes something hard, and then I get a good hold of it and pick it up. It’s a mirror from her junior beautician set. But the damn thing stops glowing when I pick it up. The mirror itself hadn’t actually been glowing; it had seemed to be reflecting something. I start to get goose bumps, and a real gnawing in the pit of my stomach, and I really don’t want to turn around, since whatever it was reflecting would have to be directly behind me on the opposite vanity. Then it dawns on me, and a little smile creeps onto my face, my electric razor is on the vanity behind me and it has a little orange light to indicate it’s charging.

So the fear leaves as quickly as it appeared, and I turn to go back to bed.

As I’m turning I hear,” I don’t like baby, but I like a little buck.”  Then I see the orange eyes. I feel the hot breath on my face, and the razor sharp talons entering my heart.

As my world starts to dim, I really hope Mr. Talons really doesn’t like baby.