Monster blog

Monsa hand is covered in fur so of course he wears no clothing. This does not mean he does not like to look nice.
Here I was buying whole Barbie outfit kits just to get the small size combs and brushes for the little guy. Combing his hair and keeping clean was important to him. While monsters like to get under, inside, and through every nook and cranny in the house he always took time afterwards to clean himself up nicely.
But that's just a little side bar. This story is the day before Easter.

I was sitting in the den watching TV. Nothing great was on but the mindless nature of it after work was nice. My wife was upstairs making Easter eggs for the church's Easter egg hunt. Now at one point I heard a little yelp from my wife, but since it was followed by laughter I let it slide.
About 30 minutes later I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Nothing worried me because with a small monster in your house things do not scare you that easy.
I turned my head and looked.

OMG!!!. I jumped up at the vision heading my way.
It was a monster like monsa hand "but". There is always a but.
This one was blood red, a snarling fang filled mouth, and yellow claws extended as he charged me.
"Get away! Get away! Get away!'. I yelled as I jumped up onto the chair OK. I do not handle killer monster attacks well.
The monster collapsed halfway across the floor.
Why, you ask, did he collapse.
He collapsed laughing. From the laughter I instantly knew it was monsa hand.

"You little @#%*." I charged him now. I was going to shave the furry little rodent bald.
Well as luck would have it my wife came into the room and kept me from microwaving him.
What happened was an evil plot involving Easter egg color, one monsa hand who wanted to look mean, and a wife who put the attack into his head. Yes. My darling wife put him up to it. They have started to be way too friendly lately. I need to get better chocolate to bribe him I guess.

So over the next several days he changed. Some days he was one color, some another, he even went through polka dotted and stripped stages. To say I was happy when we ran out of Easter eggs colors would be an understatement.
But he did have fun.

I guess I should tell you about the rules. The rules for monsa hand came about after he had all 6 teeth.
He started to act bad and for about a week seemed to be in trouble for one thing after another. All of them resulted in groundings and punishments. I really love the furry guy but being a rebellious teenager with claws is not a good combination.
It was Sunday night and he had been grounded on and off for the whole week. As he sat there reading I noticed he had not turned the page on his book for awhile. Now normally he loves reading Harry Potter but this time he was gloomy.
"You OK?"
He got to his legs and scurried over to me. He climbed up my couch and sat on the arm next to me.
Looking me in the eye he whispered "Do I have to leave now". His eye was watery and I realized he was about to cry.
I quickly picked him up and held him in a hug and said "You never have to leave. Why do you feel like that?"
He lowered his head and thought for a moment.
"I have been real bad and in some books bad boys are sent away and.. and.. and I think I'm bad" he then started to blubber.
I held him and scritched the little furry guy for awhile. He was really scared and at that point he just needed hugs, so that's what he got.
After he calmed down he and I talked and the first two rules came into existence.
1. No matter what monsa hand does he will never be sent away or thrown away.
2. No matter what monsa hand does we will always love him.
Now it sounds dumb to write down rules saying you love someone, but for an insecure monster they were what was needed.
I think he was mad that we were going to throw him away and when he knew he could stay he was happy. He also quit acting up and the grounding stopped mostly.
The rules grew and a few more have been added over time, but those are for another story.

I was tired after work one day and all I wanted was to go home and watch the movie I had rented. My wife was out so I dropped heavily on to the couch and grabbed the remote. Aiming it towards the DVD player I hit power.
Sounds good right? This is when it gets un-good.
After hitting power the DVD tray slid in and I hit play...and waited...and waited...and ARRRGGGHH
The &^%@&@ DVD player is broke.
I walked over and hammered it a little to release the standard male desire to smash and loot.
After that did not work I slid the DVD player out and noticed something.
one wire, not three. There should have been a power line, an input line, and an output line. I had one. The power line was the only thing hooked up. Looking around some more I noticed every line not permanently connected between the cable, VHS, DVD, stereo printer and computer in the whole family room was missing.
Now anyone else in the whole world would sit there confused. But not I. No sir, I knew who did it.
"MONSA HAND!!!"
soon a smiling monsa hand came scurrying into the room.
"Big one! You're home." The smile got bigger and I knew, deep down, he had done it.
"I have a question for you"
"What biggy?" I really hated it when he called me "biggy".
"Do you know where all the wires and cords in the room are?"
"Yeah, follow me" He turned and started heading for the closet.
Now as this was his "home nest" I allowed him to decorate it as he wished. I now wish I had not let him.
He opened the door with a mighty heave and with a flourish worthy of a game show host showed me his current room.
OMG! The room was encircled like some bizarre rave party room with all the cords in the house, and a few I did not recognize. He had them strung all over, wrapped some in Reeces pieces aluminum, and even rolled some into balls. I will admit this was the best one yet. He seemed to change it every time I looked, and this latest incarnation was one of the best.
"Monsa. I hate to say this but we need to take you room apart."
"No No No No"
So he and I sat down and talked. Turns out he is fascinated by wires, all wires. So with this in mind he made his last nest.
So I broke down and for only the second time, we went out. He and I took a small trip to the hardware store. We wire shopped. Right now there is a hardware store clerk who, with my request for "20 one foot lengths of all your pretty wires", put me into the loony bin category.
Well monsa hand got his room, well wired, back in place. I got the to have the fun of untangling 20 plus wires and reassembling all of the houses electronics, without the owner's manuals.
But overall a good night.

Some days it is best to be in the dark. I came home one day. My dear wife was slamming around dishes in the kitchen, not a good sign. I slowly peaked around the corner. The sight that welcomed me home can only be describe as surreal. Here in the center of the kitchen table sitting on a washrag was a nude monsa hand. His head was sunk low, as that was something he did to look pitiful when in trouble.
I stepped in. The "walking into a minefield" feeling is the best description of those first steps.
"Hello dear how was your day?"
She twirled around. Glared at me, and as she brushed past me heading into the back of the house I heard her mutter through clenched teeth, "Ask it."
Not good. Not good at all. As I set myself at the table monsa hand shifted himself turning his pink naked butt to me. Not good at all.
"What happened?" I tried to use my best fatherly sounding voice.
"You don't want to know". He scurried to the edge, climbed down the table leg, and went through the door towards the basement.
He paused as he passed through the door. He looked back at me.
"Am I a good monsa?" His eye was watering up and I could tell he so wanted to cry. But boys don't cry in front of other boys.
"You are the best monster ever" I said, hoping it would help the little guy. He looked real distraught over whatever happened,
"Thanks big one". He scurried down to the basement and stayed in his closet for the rest of the night.
I never found out what happened. Maybe I shouldn't. Monsa hand and my wife started to get along better. Maybe they had a big fight. I know sometimes in life you need to sit back and just observe.

Now being small, breakable, and occasionally troublesome I have been worried about letting the little guy out of the house. At first I just let him out to explore the yard. I did not think he would get into much trouble even after the squirrel incident.
He had been nagging me to let him go out and look around and I will admit I finally relented to shut him up. It was getting cold so I put my jacket on and placed him in the breast pocket. With just his head sticking out I knew no one would pay him much attention. I was so so wrong.
I went to the bookstore to pick up some books I had ordered, and while in the kids section looked over some books for monsa hand. I would hold a selection up and asked him which one he wanted. He picked a nice book on horses and another on the mad scientist club. I was happy as this outing had so far gone off without a hitch. So far.
At the checkout counter I regretfully got a cashier who likes to put on perfume by the gallon.
I laid my books down and after asking me if that was all I needed it happened.
"You smell"
Time stopped. .....
She looked at me and with a glare asked "What did you say?"
"Nice smell. I said nice smell. The perfume. What is it?" I was desperate and almost gibbering.
"Oh! Its odor of Paris" She smiled and checked me out.
I walked out with a face red from anger and embarrassment.
"Why did you say that?"
"You said never to lie and it was burning my nose" He said it quietly as he could almost feel my anger.
He was right. She really reeked, and with his extra ability to smell I am sure it would have burned.
So he and I sat down when we got home and talked about what was proper decorum for public conversation, and why we need to keep his existence a secret.
He seems more disturbed at the public decorum. I had been teaching him to tell the truth and now I was telling him to hold some truths back. I guess we all go through this stage at some point in all of our lives.

Coming home is becoming rather interesting. I never quite know what I will find.
One day I came home to my wife holding a sobbing monsa hand in the kitchen. Now normally he gets upset when we punish him for doing something he shouldn't have done, but not this time.
He was wrapped up in one of our terry cotton towels and covered in little bandages. My wife was scritching him behind his ear and even from where I stood at the doorway I could hear. "You are the bravest monsahand in the whole world. You did very good and I am so proud of you" she punctuated her comments with little kisses to his head.
After a bit of time, and the piece of warm chocolate he was eating, he fell asleep. My wife and I carried him to his nest and quietly returned upstairs.
"What the heck was that about?" Catching the tail end of something can be rather frustrating.
"Monsa hand saw a squirrel in the yard grabbing some acorns that had fallen. Thinking they were yours he went out to defend the big ones property. Well they got into it and although the squirrel left I think monsa hand got the worse of it"
Oh my! I felt so proud right then. The little furry guy was protecting the big ones stuff. I knew how dads felt when their kids did something dumb for all the right reasons.
Well for the rest of the weekend our little furry guy was treated like a real warrior. But I did tell him that I would let the squirrel "clean up the yard" from now on as punishment.

The furry guy almost killed me one day. His third tooth was coming in slow and we were all feeling bad for him. He was always walking around holding an ice cube in his mouth with this sad suffering look on his face. There truly is nothing so heart rending as a sad monster.
One problem, he is kind of young and dumb. So whenever the ice finally numbs his gums he drops the ice cube and goes off to play.
Well as we all know ice melts and water is what remains.
For days I have been wiping up little melted ice cube puddles around the house. Nothing bad, but a real interesting feeling when you sit in cold water while in your tighty whities.

It was the third day of his suffering. I was worried because this should not take this long. I have no idea who to take a monster to when a tooth gets stuck, but I was getting desperate. He was sleeping with us for a bit because he was hurting all the time.
I had just gotten dressed for work and had my good shoes on. Patent leather and well polished. I walked from the bedroom into the kitchen to kiss my wife goodbye when I stepped into a puddle. Well when one foot slides out the other has the habit of following right behind.

WHAM!! I hit the floor hard and since I am not called "the big one" for no reason a loud boom echoed through the house. Monsa just happened to be getting a new ice cube at the time and saw me fall. To him, and his juvenile outlook on life, he thought it was the funniest thing ever and started to laugh.
I laid there for a second checking to see if any bones where broken. None were and I got up to the sound of monsa hand laughing his furry butt off and my wife looking at me with less worry and more of a "what a klutz" look.
Monsa hand scurried across the floor towards me as fast as he could. Well running and laughing do not go good together so he ended up running right into the kitchen table leg. Of course turn around being fare play I laughed a little at him.
I stopped when I noticed a funny look on his face that soon turned into a big smile.
"My tooth popped big one, I got another tooth"
My wife picked him up and he was right. In the center on the bottom was his third tooth.

Well I was happy because, as the tooth finally showed up and the pain went away. I did chew on him just a little about being dumb for leaving water on the floor but I was so happy his tooth showed up. Three days of an unhappy sad monsa hand can wear on you.
So that night I went to bed with a sore back and he went to bed with a less sore gum line.