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by Saxman Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Short Story · Comedy · #1999780
When the monster from under a writer's bed wants to make a deal

Bruster's Deal

         I settled into bed and heard a bumping noise coming from underneath me. I looked, but saw nothing. Then, it happened again; so, again I looked. Nothing.

         'It's just worrying about turning 30,' I thought to myself.

         "No, it isn't," said a voice from under my bed.

         I threw off the covers, leapt out of bed, and looked underneath again. That's when I saw them. Two glowing blue eyes way under the bed just behind a couple of shoeboxes.

         "Don't freak out on me, now," said the voice. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk to you."

         "Who in the heck are you?"

         "You don't remember me?" said the voice. "It is me, Bruster."

         "Bruster? You mean, Bruster-the monster under my bed?"

         "Sure enough," Bruster said. "I'm here to pay you one last visit before you turn 30."

         "Why?"

         "I figured it's been awhile since I tried to talk to you or even scare you."

         "Yeah, about 20 years, if my memory serves me correctly."

         "About."

         "So, what do you want to tell me?"

         "I wanted to let you know that if you decide to run for office, I will keep my mouth shut with any reporters."

         "What?"

         "Hey, just because I have not scared you for the last 20 years doesn't mean I've not been here to hear everything that went on in your room."

         "Like what?" I laughed nervously.

         "Oh, come on, now. I know lots of things about the last 20 years of your life."

         "What do you want from me to keep quiet?"

         "Want? Me want anything from you?" said Bruster. "Not a thing, buddy boy. Not a thing."

         "Then why are you telling me that you'll keep quiet?"

         "A monster is assigned to every kid for their lifetime. We just change our tack depending on how old you are."

         "Really?"

         "Yeah, really," he replied. "For instance, when you're a kid, we make noises to scare you. It builds your character. When you are a teen, we have you worry about school, the opposite sex, grades, zits, and sex."

         "Okay."

         "When you graduate high school, we make you worry about what you're going to do for a living, marriage, and moving out on your own. Once you are married, we make you worry about your kids, bills, your marriage, and your job."

         "I'm beginning to see your responsibilities never end."

         "Not until you're dead and buried."

         "Sounds lovely."

         "It ain't bad work. By the way, I plan to have you live a long time, so don't do anything stupid on your birthday like going sky diving, okay?"

         "I didn't plan on it."

         "Good."

         "So, why the conversation?"

         "To get you to worrying if you decide to take a job in the public sector."

         "Who are you going to talk to that would believe anything you say?"

         "I have connections," replied Bruster.

         "Connections?"

         "Yup. I can plant information in someone's mind about you. Maybe they start to think you have illicit thoughts about sex with someone or about that time you and that one girl went 'all the way' just above my head."

         "So, what do you want?"

         "I'd like to become a writer."

         "And how do I help this dream of yours?"

         "I'll dictate my stories to you and you'll write and publish them."

         "Sounds like a deal I cannot refuse."

         "Pretty much. Can we get started two days from now?"

         "Fine," I said. "I will be here, say around 10-ish?"

         "Sounds great to me," said Bruster. "Now, get some sleep. Big 3-0 tomorrow. Happy Birthday."

         "Thanks."          

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