Saturday, May 06, 2006

The Monster

In a nice, nice village, there is a nice, nice street. And in that nice, nice street, there is a nice, nice house. And in that nice, nice house there is a strange, strange room. And in that strange, strange room, there lives a MONSTER.

Grey and yellow, it lurks in the corner, sleeping most of the day through, until at evening it emerges. Dragged by my brave Mummy, it is taken to the bottom of my high chair. From my cotroom I hear it roar as it greedily eats up the crumbs which have fallen from my table.

I wonder about it sometimes, as I play in the other room: what does it do as it lies there. Of what does it dream? Of carpets covered in lucious layers of dust? Of sofas, recesses spilling over with crunchy crumbs?

Is it lonely, I wonder? Does it ever want anybody to play with? So I go to it, crawling along the corridor, pushing open the door. And there it is, it's last meals layered in its transparent stomach. I pat it lovingly, and wonder at its un-monster-like name: Dyson.

1 comment:

Auntie Lois said...

Your Daddy really does have to much time on his hands Lethe, I think you should work him harder