Eggs

There is a monster out the window, a red one, and we need to fight it with swords. We do not exactly live in fear of monsters-they are a fact of life-like hurricanes in the Bahamas. I will miss life without monsters, especially the red ones, that creep about parking lots and menace plastic babies from out hurricane-proof windows. We feed them cookies. Ginger cookies, apparently, will not do, because nobody likes them. The Fiend Folio and the Monster Manual are pulled out regularly, to calibrate imagination with cold, hard statistics, and a new bestiary writes itself. Somewhere beneath the sands of a lonely beach-eggs.