Nothing quite like the feeling of having to slay a monster first thing in the morning.
“There’s a creature in the dining room,” called Jennifer. She was about to leave for work, and I was still in bed, ready for another half-hour or so of sleep.
“Creature?”
“In the dining room.”
Muttering and mumbling, I staggered out of bed, patting Maddie on the head as I passed, and stomped out to where Jennifer stood, pointing to the bags of toys she’s spent the year queueing for Christmas Cheer. Something on floor-level made a clicking sound.
“I think it’s the mouse.”
“Mmmmm,” I mumbled. I began moving bags with one hand, rubbing my eyes with the other, hoping I might actually be able to focus them, should I spot the intruder.
Then I spotted it. Not a mouse. “Jerusalem cricket,” I said.
Jennifer went green. “Ugh,” she said. “I hate those things. So creepy. What do you want me to get, a magazine?” She held up a slim, rolled-up catalog, swinging it for effect.
I looked at the monster, with it’s weird alien fetus carapace. It was massive, shiny, frightening in a primal, backbrain way. “Bigger,” I suggested. “A boot.”
Jennifer disappeared, leaving me alone to watch the mandible-clicking monster. Moments later, she returned, an unlaced Doc Martens boot in one hand. “Are you sure about this?” she asked.
“Of course not.” I looked at the boot, then the bug, then the boot. “I’ve reconsidered. Get me the broom.”
Jennifer set the boot on a chair, disappeared into the kitchen. “The little broom?” she called.
“Big,” I said as the monster turned, moving it’s head as if contemplating whether I was edible. “Bring me the big broom. Quick!”
Jennifer returned, pressed the broom handle into my palm. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yeah,” I said, handing back the previously attached dustpan. “I’ve got this. Stand back.” I lifted the broom like a lance, a pike, a spear, and for a moment, I was Beowulf, I was Gilgamesh, I was the monster slayer, facing a nightmare creature with the simplest of weapons. The Unholy Thing gnashed its mandibles at me as I raised my weapon. Then I brought it down, fast and merciless, feeling the impact as exoskeleton splintered and ichor flowed.
The creature was dead. Jennifer stood nearby, offering a fistful of paper towels. “I hate those things.” she said.
“Yeah,” I yawned. “Me too. Guess I’m up. I couldn’t go back to sleep now.”
“Thanks,” said Jennifer. “My hero.”
And with that, the monster slayer took the paper towels, and bent to clear the remains of his foul quarry, inwardly hoping that it was the last of its kind.
