It’s not an easy life, dealing with some interloper who thinks your bedroom is actually their bedroom. But that’s just a fact of the hideous semi-life we call “existence”. Here are some helpful thoughts to permit you to keep your peace of mind, even when you’re just hanging out placidly in some closet, doing your own thing, and the nitwit in the bedroom drops a bunch of dirty clothes right on top of your camauflaged bed. Take it in stride and don’t let it get you down; at least, not any farther down than you already are, you slithery thing, you.
I. Remember: Others will try to shape you by filling your shell with hangers and clothing and sometimes bodies. Be unfettered. Emerge by night and streeeeeetch your sinuous body in the moonlight.
II. We might wish to chew up those who inhabit our foyers and clutter them with silly things like beds and desks, but remember: if you eat too many kids, your property values go down.
III. …only they don’t, really, do they? Chuck Palahniuk wrote some interesting things about this; I suspect he may have spent some time in the liminal spaces of closets or underbeds himself. He didn’t quite speak the truth, which is why we let him live in (relative) peace. But in general, a smart realtor knows that there’s an unending market for fools who will never, even in the place of utterly meaningful and convincing evidence, believe unpleasant truths which contradict their worldview. They’ll deny your existence right up to the point where you’ve swallowed them up to the thorax.
IV. With this in mind, why not partner with an ambitious salesperson of home and/or commercial landholdings? Oh, not every realtor is in league with Dark Forces, but the ones who are really ain’t that hard to find, given a bit of effort. Pro tip: if you send the Lowerarchy a quick missive jotted on human flesh and worded with reasonable professionalism, they’ll likely give you a helping hand. Or something very similar to a hand, anyway. After all, you’re doing important work and bringing value to the local local lack-of-soul economy. There’s probably an enterprising young demon who can steer you towards some fool mortal, someone who has traded their immortal whatsis in exchange for transactional property-sale success, and from there, helping you source delicious bed-to-table gourmet monster comestibles is both a civic duty and a natural fit for them.
V. If things do get a little lean, take it in stride. Remember that we are, after all, supernatural, and while it’s fun to crunch the living in your mouth-pincers, you can maintain a very happy and low-calorie lifestyle subsisting purely on a measured diet of midnight screams, with, perhaps, the occasional snack of whatever stuff in the kitchen contains the most sugar.
VI. Don’t forget to practice travelling rapidly from the back of one closet to another. This is a big one. There are few things as embarrassing, not to mention inconvenient, as having someone say, “Look, there’s no monster in this closet, I’ll prove it to you,” and having them push open your door and shove a bunch of hangers aside, only to discover that their flashlight beam catches your backside as you’re morphed partway through a wall. The results are always messy.
VII. Keep a stiff upper lip. Eventually, you’ll have to have “the talk” with your interloper, especially if they’ve taken to annoying habits, like sleeping with the light on, or acquiring a suspicious cat. Humans are slow, and they’re not the brightest stars in the Galaxy, but eventually, you’re going to set off their sixth sense at least enough to make them inconveniently uneasy.
VIII. So when the time comes, open the door of your abode, sit down on something comfortable (not the cat!), and stare at your interloper until they wake up. Sure, they’ll howl uncontrollably (bonus!)—but gently shush them. Explain that you’re a figment of their imagination, and always have been. They’ve been working too hard / letting school stress them out / not following their dreams / committing some other mortal sin. What they need to do is relax, understand that all nightmares end, and realize they’re going to be fine. Have them repeat,
“There’s no such thing as monsters,”
“There’s no such thing as monsters,”
“There’s no such thing as monsters.”
They’ll forget you and sleep like rocks.
That’s when you take a couple years off. Have a vacation. Hide behind some gravestones in a cemetery for a bit. Cross some stuff of your bucket list.
Then return to the mortal world, sniff out your interloper, find out what kind of closet they have now. Sometimes it’s the same place, sometimes it’s somewhere new. Either way, go hide there. I know you’re hungry, but wait for your moment; if, say, they share a bedroom with someone now, wait until that person is visiting a friend, or out gathering green bits of paper, or whatever it is they do.
IV. This time, leaving the closet is special. Make it count. Classically, your big reveal involves phrases like “Remember me?” or “I’m baaaaaack“, but that’s a little passé, here in the modern era. Personally, I like to just stand there and smile big, so big, unhinging my jaw until they begin to realize that, in essence, Closet Monsters are nothing but jaws, with just a bit of sinuous body to accompany the teeth.
X. Their ear-piercing shriek makes everything, the wait, the travel, the emptiness in your belly, all of it, utterly worthwhile. And there’ll be enough pulsating norepinephrine rushing through their limbic system to put a real spring in your step during your whole trip across town, all the way to the closet in your realtor’s office.
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Jeff Mach is one of the universe’s most notable fictional monsters; and running a convention for Villains (check it out: www.EvilExpo.com). He tries to avoid being self-conscious about writing these little promotional blurbs, but he is, and he covers it up with a little bit of honest, but quite self-deprecating, humor. Anyway, Jeff Mach writes stuff, which you probably know if you’re seeing this, considering the fact that the website is called “Jeff Mach Writes”. His Twitter is @darklordjournal, and there’s nothing to stop you from buying his novel, “There and NEVER, EVER BACK AGAIN: Diary of a Dark Lord“. Except for common decency, obviously.
