Young Writers Society

Dear upstairs neighbor:

Hello from the monster under your bed.

I am here to clear up some wrong things about me that've been said.

No, I don't eat children on my toast or in my spaghetti.

So you can relax, party and break out the confetti.

Why eat children when parents have a very good taste.

They're delicious and tender and too good to waste!

Another lie you've been told: I don't scare children it's a waste of my time.

All you constantly do is scream and whine.

Would you like it if someone screamed at you

I am a sensitive soul and human too (we'll sort of)

Parents on the other hand aren't protected or tucked in.

And that's practically an invitation to come in.

Another matter since we're already talking.

It is about your constant running and stomping.

It moves around my furniture and makes it quite un neat.

So thank you for that and even better, my house smells of dirty feet.

Hey, I'm a monster. Don't judge what I like to smell.

It's quite inconvenient though your clothes everywhere that have fell.

This is so nice and we will have to do it again some day.

It's much better than when you would scream for me to go away.

Since we are neighbors we can do things like borrow each other's flour.

I bake lemon square a lot the ones that are sweet not sour.

Your friend,

The monster under your bed.

P.s.

You can bring your parents over for lunch.

We can talk over something to munch.