The monsters were on the road again the
other night. Everyone turned out their lights and hid under their
beds. They took the MacManus family from number twelve, dragged them
out onto the pavement and started butchering them right there. The
screaming went on forever. I covered my little one's ears. One of the
flying types took off with young David in its talons. Mercifully, I think the
poor kid was already dead. We saw it on CCTV the next day
and he looked pretty limp as he dangled from the claws. We hosed the
gore from the road. Some of it went down the drain and Maurice went
crazy, saying he saw one of the spidery looking ones down there once
and that the guts attract them. We bagged up most of the innards and
threw them on the pyre. Someone suggested we say a prayer and some of
us did. Darcy started banging on about how we should fight back but,
yeah, ...whatever. Mary said we should get an online petition
together and send it to the Monster King. A few of us thought that
might be a good idea but then we forgot about it. Really we were just
glad it wasn't our families. We'd survived another night. Most nights
the monsters don't even bother with our road anyway. They prefer the
estates further up on higher ground, nearer Monster Mountain.
We boarded up the windows and doors on
number twelve just like we did with numbers five, seventeen and
thirty six. Then we all went indoors to watch TV and pretend nothing
happened. That new show about the invisible dog was on and we all
enjoyed trying to laugh at that. The laughter sounded out from our
houses and filled the night. Some believe the sound of laughter is
another thing that attracts them but I only think it counts if the
laughter is genuine and ours isn't. Ever. If it was gentle sobbing
that brought the monsters we'd be done for though.
I'll never forget the night one came
sniffing at our place. Jesus, it was tense. You could hear this great
snuffling sound and see the colossal
twisted shadow of the thing through the frosted glass. Kevin bolted
out from next door and took the creature's attention away from us.
Kevin was a good friend but I wonder why he did that. I
mean, he wasn't that good a friend that he'd sacrifice himself for
us. Maybe he was just tired of living this kind of life. I think it's
worth it though. It's all part of the trade off. Without monster
shit, how would we fertilise our allotments
or fuel our cars? How would we heat and power our homes? We'd be back
living in the stone age. So yeah, once and a while they take us and
eviscerate us and spill our guts out on the tarmac and concrete. And
sure, our kids are showing signs of trauma but our kids also eat well
and don't freeze at winter. Our kids get driven to school.
When the kids get older they'll
understand why we made the monsters and why we put up with them.
They'll see the Monster King attending the trade meetings with our
leaders and see that he is not all bad. They'll understand that for
the monsters to give they have to take. Personally I think they give
more than they take. Some say they are taking more than they used to
but to me the balance is still in our favour.
Anyway, even if we wanted to stop them, what could we do? Seriously,
what? Most of us would die fighting them and what remained of us
would be left with nothing but ash, debris and huge corpses to clear
away. Those proposing the fight back don't think things through. I
heard one say we could eat the monsters once we killed them. He
didn't even know that their flesh is poison and their blood scalding.
We made them like that especially so they wouldn't eat each other. We
didn't think they'd grow tired of the slop we fed them and start
eyeing us up as a possible alternative.
So, this is the way it is and the way
it has to remain. No one leaves their house after dark, staying
indoors, wilfully enjoying primetime and
hoping one of the snake types doesn't come slithering down the
chimney. Every night is imbued with an unacknowledged horror but in
the morning, once the sun comes up, it all seems worth it. We get up
and we leave our homes and we find the great mounds of shit that make
our lives worthwhile. Great big mounds of beautiful fantastic shit,
that's what it's all about. We take our shovels and we shovel that
shit all day long. Yes sir. We shovel that wonderful foul stenched
shit all day till teatime when the sun starts going down. Then we
push our wheelbarrows of shit home and bolt our doors. We bolt our
doors and pull down the shutters and we settle in for another night
of attempting to enjoy the TV. Feeling wealthy and feeling scared, at
the same time.
We turn up the volume. We drown out the sound of something scuttling across the roof.
