Weaknesses at Bedtime

After the lights were turned out and the parents were out of earshot, which thanks to a friend Jack Daniels and a visitor from Russia wasn’t all that far, an echoing voice drifted up from beneath the placid seven year old’s bed, “Bi-i-illy, Bi-i-i-lly…”

“Wha-a-a-t?” the boy asked in a snippy tone.

“Let…me…go,” said the voice, “I…must…feed.”

“Sigh. Why do you have to be so dramatic? Mom says Aunt Grace does that because she didn’t get enough attention as a kid.”

The voice let out a petulant noise and muttered, “Creature of the night, fangs of darkness, stuck under a fricking bed.”

“I don’t see why you’re so grumpy. I brought you three puppies this week.”

“Puppies? Really?”

“Don’t get testy with me. You’re just sore cause you have to obey cause I have the Amulet of…”

“Don’t,” the voice interupted, “You butcher it every time. Just, just don’t say it.”

The bubblegum dispensing clock ticked away. The moon crept higher.

The voice asked hesitantly, “Sure I can’t eat your parents?”

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