Archive for the ‘Politics & Ghosties 2012’ Category

Raised Eyebrows = What I got when i asked for a raise!

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“Under the bed!”
That is what the child said, when asked where the monsters and ghosts tormenting him, were.

Tiny, buggered-up-from-playing-too-hard hands clutched the blanket and held it tightly. Big, scared eyes peeked above the blanket, but the rest of the boy was under the covers.

“There’s nothing under here,” said the Mom and Dad, who knelt beside the bed, peering beneath it. Appeasing their child’s overactive imagination became routine, as of late.

“That’s because they are hiding real good.” The child said.

Mom and Dad sat at the edge of the bed alongside the kid. The boy would drop off to dreamland very soon, as he did following each ghost-chase.

But not just yet.

“Why would the ghosts and monsters hide?” Dad asked.

“Because they are afraid of you and Mom.”

“Why is that?” Mom asked, yawning. It had been a long day.

“They are afraid of you, because you aren’t little, and there’s two of you.” The boy replied. Yawns are contagious as everyone knows, and he now caught his Mom’s yawn, and yawned a big yawn, himself. Then he continued:
“If they stopped hiding, you’d be able to see they are real, and they want to eat me, and because there’s two of you, you could stop ’em.” He added.

“Is that why monsters and ghosts hide?” Dad asked.

The boy’s eyelids began to relax. A good sign. “Yep,” he said.

“Well then,” said his mom, “the monsters and ghosts hiding under the bed aren’t very brave!”

This made the boy smile slightly. He nodded his head.

“Dad?” he asked, “Does the President have ghosts and monsters under his bed?”

Mom and Dad looked at each other.

“Mmmm, Of course not.” Dad answered. He leaned over and kissed the boy on top of his head.

“What about that other guy?”

“What other guy?” asked Dad.

“The one that wants the President’s job. You know. He’s on TV all the time.”

Again, the parents exchanged a look. This certainly was a new thread to otherwise routine conversation.

“Why do you ask that?” Dad said.

“I don’t know,” the boy in the bed, said. “I was thinkin’ about the Anonamies Camping Fungus he has. Isn’t he scared of them?”

“What are you talking about?!” The parents said, together.

“At Cub Scouts, I heard the Den Leader tell Joey’s dad he had Anonamies Camping Fungus, and that’s why he’s trying to get the President’s job.”

“Are you sure that’s what he said?”

The boy nodded.

“Well, there’s no such thing as…what do you call it? “Anonamies Camping Fungus”? So go to sleep.”

They kissed their son, and exited the room.

Mom and Dad sat at the kitchen table, shaking their heads, and waited for their tea to cool, in silence. The kitchen clock tick-ticked. It was after midnight.

“Anonymous Campaign Funding!” said the boy’s mom suddenly, with excitement that accompanies ‘Eureka!’ moments.
“That’s what frightened our boy!”

An incredulous look of acknowledgment came over the boy’s dad’s face, and he nodded.

He gave a quick shudder, then patted his wife’s hand.

“You are right!” Then he said aloud: “Anonamies Camping Fungus”.
They both chuckled, but only for about a minute.

Sober-faced, the boy’s dad said, “Our son’s right, you know. We should be scared of the Anonamies Camping Fungus.”

Mom nodded. “Who are they? What do they want?” She said.

“I want to know why they are hiding,” Dad whispered.

They finished their tea, checked on their now-sleeping son, and went to bed, themselves.

But not before checking under their own bed.