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The Monster In The Toilet Bowl

December 3, 2013

When I was a kid growing up in Clifton, New Jersey, I always thought there were monsters everywhere in our home. Later on, as an adult, when Fox News came out, little did I realize I was sooooo right. Bada-binga. Anyway, a walk down a dark hallway to my room was a trip I took by running, some type of blob had to be spreading from within the shadows of the floorboards waiting to dissolve my flesh. So I sprinted to my bedroom, and leaped upon it, because I wanted to avoid the creature beneath my bed, who was lurking for me–that’s why, when I was forced to say my prayers at night, I said them in bed, instead of taking the risk of being on my knees, beside my bed, while I prayed to get Mickey Mantle in my next pack of baseball cards, I might be giving the beast a chance to clutch my ankles and pull me under my bed and through the undiscovered trap door in the floor, where he would eat me in his lair beneath the house, or in his favorite haunt, the cellar (I thought the blast of the heat furnace was his breathing pattern.) Later on a liberal education would ensure that I took that childhood imagination into every unproductive avenue in the world. But, the monster who frightened me the most, was the monster I believed lurked within the dark shadowy lip of the toilet bowl’s cavernous porcelain hole. It was bad enough I resented being born with bodily functions, which I thought was unfair punishment for simply liking to eat. Anyway, I was firmly convinced–well, let’s say I’d believe it was a strong possibility before Bill Bryson wrote about everything so there was no reason to understand anything anymore, that the beast was just waiting for me, and at a crucial moment, when reach up with its claws ands pull me down on the flush.

Again, as I reveal this world, I simply askL Just me?

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