I’m not sure how it started or when exactly, but for as long as I can remember I have operated under the assumption that when it’s night time and all the lights in my bedroom are off, there is a creature hiding under my bed and if I linger too long at my bedside it will grab my ankles.  What would happen after that is anyone’s guess; I’ve never given it much thought as the idea of a scaly, slimy, hand clawing at my ankles is enough to scare the beejeesus out of me so I’ve never stuck around long enough to find out.

I recognize this is insane.  Especially because I know what’s under my bed.  Some luggage, a bag with sweaters in it and dust elephants courtesy of The Frog.  But regardless of what my rational mind KNOWS that little lizard part of my brain is just as sure that there is, in fact, a creature who resides under there, just waiting for that one time when I take too long pulling back the covers and taking a sip of water…

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