Nobody Ever Listens

Nobody Ever Listens

“Dad, my closet door is open!”

“I told you it’s bed time, now go to sleep young man!”

Great, how the heck does he expect me to sleep with my closet door open?

“Can you come in here and close it for me!”

“You do not want me to come in there, boy. Now go to sleep and let me watch my program in peace!”

“But….”

“GO TO SLEEP!”

The room is dark, with just enough light from the hall to show the silhouette of the closet door cracked open. He is going to have to get up and close it himself. That means he has to get up and cross the dark toy strewn floor.

I hate this!

“Come on Max,” he whispers to the dark fury mass at the foot of his bed.

Max lifts his head and stares at the boy with a look that says, you’re nuts, I ain’t budging from my warm spot.

He rolls out from under his covers onto the floor, sending chills through him. Whether the chill is from the cool floor or from his nerves is debatable.

“Come on Max!,” he whispers more urgently.

He senses the dogs tail wag, but no other movement comes from the foot of his bed.

Lot of help you are, he thinks at the dog.

Just a bit further across the floor, then push it shut fast and get to bed!

As he crosses the toy strewn floor he knocks over his toy robot, which proceeds to light up and make an obnoxious noise.

Great!…., “shhhhhh!”

Reaching the door he touches it and pushes. It doesn’t budge and he hears a grunt.

What!

Another shift then a deep almost growl, “Huuuungry.”

That does it, he’s outta there! Spinning around, he runs to his bedroom door.

“Come on Max!”

Max is hot on his heals. There are just some things that outweigh a warm spot on the bed. Voices coming from the closet are one of those things.

The living room is dark, with the only light coming from the TV. His dad’s spread out on the couch in his underwear with beer cans strewn half hazardly about the base.

“Dad, there’s someone in my closet!”

The large man scratches himself, belches and stares at his son. After a few heart beats he says, “what are you doing out of bed boy?”

“You gotta listen Dad, there’s someone or something in my closet!”

Max lends his support by leaning on the boy’s leg and staring down the hall. If you think he’s between the boy and hall, think again. Max isn’t stupid, cowardly yes, stupid no.

“Get back to bed boy,” the man says, looking past him at the show on TV.

“But Dad!”

The dad’s had enough. He hoists himself out of the broken down couch, grabs the boy by the scruff of the neck, and heads toward the hall. Shaking him once for every word as he says, “now you will stay in your bed boy or I’ll take the belt to you.”

When he reaches the room he flips on the light and throws the boy into bed. The door to the closet is sitting wide open with a huge stuffed dragon from a carnival staring sightlessly from the floor just inside the door.

The man slams the door shut, rattles the knob to make sure it’s latched, and turns to the boy cowering in bed.

“Now boy, there is nothing in the closet and the door is shut. I will hear no more from you tonight.” With that he leaves, turning out the light and nearly shutting the door behind him.

The boy sits scared in the dark for a few minutes before he starts to wonder if he really did hear anything in the first place. At least he had Max to protect him.

“Max?”

Where is Max?

Just then he hears a shuffle out in the hall. Max the great protector slinking back to his post. At least that’s what the boy thinks until….

“Huuuungry”

The floor boards creek outside his door and he hears snuffling, almost like something is trying to catch the scent of its prey.

The boy freezes in terror. Will it come in and eat him?

The floor creaks again as it moves away from the door. The next thing the boy hears is a muffled umf, the TV turn off, then a loud long belch.

The boy has been rooted to his bed in fear, wondering if it will return to his room and get him. No sound has come from the living room for what seems like hours.

‘Is it gone?’

He has to know, so he creeps out of bed and to his door. When he hears nothing, he sneaks out into the hall and into the living room. The living room is as it was the last time he was there. The only difference being that his dad is gone and there is a gross, rotten egg smell in the air. Next to the couch is a pair of his dad’s soiled underwear.

He slips into the kitchen to use the phone to call for help. They said in school that if he was ever in trouble and needed help to dial 911 and that was what he was going to do.

“911 operator, what is the nature of your emergency?”

Holding the receiver tight to his ear he whispers, “I need help, there’s a monster in my house.”

“Young man this number is for emergencies only, crank calls will be prosecuted, there are officers on the way and they will issue the necessary fine.”

What! he thinks, then says, “well you better listen and tell them to be careful, because I think it’s probably still hungry.”

Just then he hears toenails click on the linoleum as his friend saunters into the dark kitchen eyes aglow.

“Max!”

He stares at the boy, shakes his head once and belches loudly……