Grumble - A Short Story
I can barely poke my toes to the edge of the covers without being attacked in the night by the little red monster. I grumble at his first swipe, which lands on my foot but does not break the barrier of blanket, and so does he. When, mostly asleep, I stretch the toes toward the edge and wiggle, the monster can no longer hold his excitement, and drives his pointy claws and teeth deeper into my flesh.
With a muffled and exaggerated "nooo" I kick a little, but my efforts to shoo away razors and daggars comes to no avail. If anything, the monster deepens his chase, diving into the covers for a bite of pink foot flesh.
"That's it!" I cry out, sitting straight up but barely awake. I reach down to my feet and grab a fistful of fur, dragging the little red monster up into my arms. "Come here," I say, tucking a ball of fur and flesh under the covers with me. "It's time for sleeping still." A muffled cry is followed by a low meow, and I stroke behind the ears of my kitten-in-a-cat's-body.
With a grumble, then a soft purr, Cheddar gives in, and snuggles up for nap. After all, monsters need rest too.