There are monsters living under his bed. At night, he hears them whisper to each other. They talk about him. About which part of him they’re going to eat first. They wonder how they’d season him to make him taste the best. One of them thinks he’d be delicious with just salt and pepper. Another one is adamant he’d taste the best cooked in barbeque sauce and topped with cheese. The most boring one would eat him plain.
He never sleeps. Not at night anyway. That’s when they’re awake. He listens to them discuss cooking techniques. They all have a claim on a part of him. Salt and Pepper has his right calf, Barbeque has his right forearm, and Cajun has his left arse-cheek. One unlucky monster has his ears, and every night it ponders how to make them taste nice. The one that always disturbs him the most is Garlic. It talks about the skewers it’ll make out of his eyes.
So, one day he decides to get rid of them by buying a new bed. He dismantles the old one and doesn’t see any monsters, but he can hear them again when he tries to fall asleep. And they sound angry.
They start talking louder, so even when he tries to sleep on the sofa, he can still hear them chattering upstairs.
Running short of ideas, he decides to set fire to his bed. He covers his bed in olive oil and balled up newspapers. It seems only right to cook them.
Their screams are high pitched and childlike. It hurts his ears, but he forces himself to endure. To stare and watch as his nightmare goes up in flames.
He doesn’t notice as the flames catch the carpet. They creep towards him. The screams turn to cheers as the fire licks at his trousers.