Monday Miles is a sporadic feature from my 10 month old son, Miles. Yes, he’s a baby genius. Enjoy.
Even though he scares her into sleeping with the light on, my mom continues to read an unhealthy amount of Stephen King. She started this a few years back, after she read all 1,500 pages of “The Stand” in two weeks. From my own personal experience, what you read can have an impact on your daily life. For example, “Don’t Let the Pigeon Stay Up Too Late” always makes me not sleep (nice try, mom!) Naturally, if you’re reading about nothing but possessed dogs, murderous maids and epic plagues, you’re going to get a little nutty.
There is a monster living in our house. He hides under the china hutch, and comes out at night, after my mom has finished sweeping and gone to bed. Every morning, she knows that the monster has been running laps around the dining room table because she finds his fur. “YEARRRGH!” my mom will quietly yell (she thinks I don’t know that she’s yelling) “BACK AGAIN!”
I have never seen the monster myself, but I know he exists, because my mom is always taking out her weapons: broom, vacuum, and if the Fur Man has been especially furry, the Shop Vac.
The battle ends quickly, with not a single trace of the Fur Man in sight. But, without fail, the signs will be there the next morning, and my mom will spot it with her squinting (PUT ON YOUR GLASSES, WOMAN!) eagle eyes.
I think the Abominable Fur Man is best friends with Maggie, our dog. It seems like every morning, after my mom has cleaned up the evidence from the Fur Man’s visit, she gives Maggie a very skeptical look, as if Maggie is inviting the Fur Man over for cookies and milk after everyone is asleep.
Maybe the Fur Man is nice; maybe he’s friends with Santa, and my mom just doesn’t get it because she reads too much Stephen King and thinks everything is a monster sent here from outer space to make noises in the middle of the night and give her more chores around the house. You’d think she would be more understanding, what with all the “hug trees, love each other, don’t forget to recycle” stuff she’s telling me all the time.
The next time I find traces of the Fur Man, I’m going to follow them to his hide out, where I will hug him and take enormous mouthfuls of fur. And if I can’t find him, I’m sure the dog will cooperate.