I Am Not A Monster

“I am not a monster,” said the monster.

But you’re purple and furry and have huge teeth and claws.

“So do those people who people who dress up as sexy cartoon cats for fun.”

True. But those are humans in costumes. This look seems to be your whole deal.

“I can see how that would be confusing, but I’m not a monster.”

I heard that you attended a monster convention last year.

“It was just to see what monsters look like. So I can avoid them.”

You were the keynote speaker.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

You told me some of your hobbies include sharpening your claws on rocks, practicing your roars when airplanes fly overhead so the neighbors don’t get suspicious and pickleball.

“Yeah! They just built a new court by my house! Isn’t that great?”

But what about the other two th….

“You know what your problem is? You seem to be obsessed with monsters. Is that all you think about?”

Um, no I have a lot of other interests. It just seems to me, when facing a monster, it’s important to acknowledge it. To make sure you’re all on the same page. Of who’s a monster and who’s not.

“Well, put me in the “NOT” column, pal.”

You eat children.

“Only the little ones! And even then only the bad ones. Haven’t you ever read Swift’s ‘A Modest Proposal'?”

It’s satire! Not a cookbook!

“I think you’re confused.”

I think you’re a monster.

“Trust me. I KNOW monsters. And I am definitely NOT a monster,” insisted the monster.