Monster
Have you encountered a monster who is furless, toothless and fangless... has only cuddly appendages yet can threaten you with sound and liquid armaments. I stay with such a monster.
God handed me this monster in a dainty little bundle. I was then destined to grow, cultivate, educate and civilize the monster. As I am penning this, the monster is giving light grunts and snores making its presence evident. Yes, I know you are going to keep the reins of my life with you now and forever.
When I received the monster, I forgot to ask God to grant me four hands, an extra pair of legs, eyes all over my head, and yes if possible two wings too.
But back then, I was swindled by the monster's innocent face. This monster still hovers around with that innocent face....though all its doings are nowhere in the neighborhood of innocence. The gleam that blurred my eyes has finally been treated. I can see through all that hornswoggle.
My eyes … oooh, I wish I could take it away from that monster and put them to rest somewhere. But the moment I have done that, my ears vigilantly picks up signals of devastations that befall my orderly house. Right from the day this little monster has stepped into my serene, peaceful life, I have lost my precious sleep. It can roar at unearthly hours.
Does any monster refrain from food. With the case of my monster coaxing and force feeding is the only way out. The effort it takes is equivalent to catching the bull by horns.
Bathing the monster … hmmmm.. here you can get wrong. My little monster enjoys bathing till that delicate moment when you touch that stainless face with soap. Half a second, it will look at you in bewilderment... after that God save you... you will hear such wails that can be actually developed as a raw material for sonic weapons.
Clipping the nails of this monster is a deadly discreet job. I do that with the precision of Tom Cruise from Mission Impossible. Cleaning the poos and pees is a highly tedious one. Wonder why it gurgles with mischievous eyes whenever it wets up. Moreover, it taps on the disposed liquid till someone raises an alarm. I suspect it's another attack scheme. This one meets all the strategies of guerrilla warfare - ambush, sabotage, raid, petty-warfare, hit-and-run tactics.
By the end of the day serving the monster leaves me so drained out of energy whereas the monster just moves about in its dream world. Holding out paws to touch imaginary butterflies and beetles and, of course, oblivious of my miseries.
But then I wait for that moment when it gives me a huge toothless grin and smooches my cheeks with its nectar spilling mouth.... aaah and all my efforts were worth it.
From its pillow manger I hear subtle snores, I peep in and yet again helplessly fall in love with the monster. That’s the magic of my “Monster”
God handed me this monster in a dainty little bundle. I was then destined to grow, cultivate, educate and civilize the monster. As I am penning this, the monster is giving light grunts and snores making its presence evident. Yes, I know you are going to keep the reins of my life with you now and forever.
When I received the monster, I forgot to ask God to grant me four hands, an extra pair of legs, eyes all over my head, and yes if possible two wings too.
But back then, I was swindled by the monster's innocent face. This monster still hovers around with that innocent face....though all its doings are nowhere in the neighborhood of innocence. The gleam that blurred my eyes has finally been treated. I can see through all that hornswoggle.
My eyes … oooh, I wish I could take it away from that monster and put them to rest somewhere. But the moment I have done that, my ears vigilantly picks up signals of devastations that befall my orderly house. Right from the day this little monster has stepped into my serene, peaceful life, I have lost my precious sleep. It can roar at unearthly hours.
Does any monster refrain from food. With the case of my monster coaxing and force feeding is the only way out. The effort it takes is equivalent to catching the bull by horns.
Clipping the nails of this monster is a deadly discreet job. I do that with the precision of Tom Cruise from Mission Impossible. Cleaning the poos and pees is a highly tedious one. Wonder why it gurgles with mischievous eyes whenever it wets up. Moreover, it taps on the disposed liquid till someone raises an alarm. I suspect it's another attack scheme. This one meets all the strategies of guerrilla warfare - ambush, sabotage, raid, petty-warfare, hit-and-run tactics.
By the end of the day serving the monster leaves me so drained out of energy whereas the monster just moves about in its dream world. Holding out paws to touch imaginary butterflies and beetles and, of course, oblivious of my miseries.
But then I wait for that moment when it gives me a huge toothless grin and smooches my cheeks with its nectar spilling mouth.... aaah and all my efforts were worth it.
From its pillow manger I hear subtle snores, I peep in and yet again helplessly fall in love with the monster. That’s the magic of my “Monster”
This is one of the best of your writings... every mother can relate to it :) Gina looks so naughty with those sharp eyes.
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