Hi there.  This is Audrey.  I need to fill you in on an alarming situation going on at my house.  Perhaps I should start at the beginning.

Last Christmas, Santa (not that I know who that is, I never met him) gave me a “TMX Elmo.”   It looked harmless enough in the box, even though it kept staring at me.  My sister seemed really excited about it, and she said Lauren has one, and I think Lauren is cool, so I was willing to give it a shot.    I wasn’t sure what to do with it at first (do you cuddle it?  Does it read stories?)  Mommy said that you were supposed to tickle it, which sounded kind of fun, I like tickling.  So I reached out and tickled it, just a little bit.  And it started laughing, but not just any laugh, a cackle that would haunt my dreams.   And it WOULD NOT STOP.  And the Monster (for by now I knew for sure it was a monster) began to flail and roll about.  Of course I climbed up onto Mommy for her to protect me, but all of a sudden I realized that she was laughing.  And Sister was laughing.  And everybody was laughing at the Monster and watching it roll on the floor like it was entertainment.  This shocked me!  How could they not see?  Did they not understand that it was merely warming up before it went on a rampage to destroy us all?  Did they not see the mortal danger we were all in?

And then my parents put it in the trunk and TOOK IT HOME WITH US.  Had they lost their minds?  I sat still as a statue the entire way home, so not to alert it to my presence.  My rational mind told me that it could not get to me, but I just could not forget THOSE EYES.  Lidless, glaring, they haunted me.  I knew the Monster was simply biding its time.

So when we got home—you won’t believe this—Mommy put it on the shelf in the game room.  I would cautiously play under its relentless gaze, always aware of the impending doom.  I would try to alert Mommy from time to time, but she did not seem to understand me.  Occasionally she would bring the Monster into our midst, and it would dutifully perform its little ruse, but I was onto its scheme.  I would warn Mommy with my most blood-curdling shrieks of fear, but she would simply put the Monster back onto the shelf, where it would continue to plot against us.  A few times I even tried to telephone the authorities, but this only seemed to make Mommy upset with me.  Daddy would tell me, “Yes, honey, it scares me too,” but he would never do anything about it. (Perhaps they are double agents.  I am still researching this theory, as I am very fond of them and reluctant to believe they could betray me.) 

This has gone on for nine agonizing months.  But then, the other day it seemed that I finally got through to Mommy.  I gathered together all of the Monster propaganda in this house, in the form of books and toys, because they are a pack of lies and must be destroyed.  I presented this evidence to her, pointed at the Monster, and in my most emphatic voice declared an ultimatum:  IT'S EITHER THE MONSTER OR ME, MAKE YOUR FINAL CHOICE.  By some miracle she seemed to understand me at last, and she removed the Monster from the shelf.  It glared at me as they passed by (I kept a safe distance though--better her than me) and she took it out of sight.  I never actually heard her take it outside to the trash can, though…

There’s a little door in my room.  I’ve never been through it, and my parents call it “The Attic.”  I never knew what that meant, exactly, but now I suspect it means “Monster Hiding Place.”  So now I guess it is up to me to stand in the gap between my ignorant family and the Apocalypse.  I sleep the fitful sleep of the Protector, with one eye always on that doorknob.