Dedicated to the viewer, 'Helen.' for her review.
I felt sick to my stomach at the sight of that revolting thing. Yesterday's green spinach surprise slowly dripped down the sides.
I shuddered as an overwhelming stench reached my sensitive nostrils. The stench of death; the stench of overcooked asparagus.
"Are you done yet?" A piercing screech reaches my ears. Oh no, it is coming.
My heart skips a beat as I hear pounding footsteps. There is only one thing that came make such a horrifying noise.
It's called, my mother, species - Nagger, short for Nagging Monster
If I don't hurry and hide, it will take me hostage and make me do chore after chore like a slave. I must run.
My heart pounds loudly as I my feet began to move.
I duck behind a bush.
My chest is heaving, and a thorn dives into my bare flesh. I bite my lip to refrain from screaming.
Suddenly the Nagger began to howl again.
"Kevin! Where are you! Hurry up."
I try to make myself as small as possible.
The footsteps get louder.
"Kevin, if you don't do it now, I'll take away your videogame privileges!"
Oh NO! The monster has taken my Xbox 360! I surrender! I surrender! That Nagger plays dirty!
I jump out into the clearing, waving my hands in defeat.
There it is, a fine specimen.
The Nagger is in its natural habitat, the kitchen. The door is open and you can examine her closely.
I have never been so near the Nagger, oh how the tourists would pay for a sight like this!
Its claw is on the side of its large abdomen, and its eyes are a dirty mud brown. The patch of fur on its head is wild and messy, it's lips puckered and blood red.
Slowly it lifts one sharp purple claw and points at the healing bowl of grime.
Reluctantly, I pinch my nostrils, and slowly walk toward the mess. For the Xbox! I tell myself, forcing myself forward. Step by step, I get closer. I spy a banana peel on top, mold city.
"It's just some old food," a miniature copy of the Nagger snickers.
I glare at it, 'just some old food,' it says.
Well I know better, I know if I get too close, the horrible mass of rotting food will blind me with its vicious BBQ spit and clog my nose and mouth with its super fart of doom. Then it will knock me out with its revolting odor of onions, garlic, and week old pizza.
Then, the glowing green hand of mold will slowly reach for my neck and, and…
"Kevin, you are such a drama queen!" My mom sighs, snapping me out of my trance.
She shook her head sadly, and walked out of the door with the disgusting green heap.
"I prefer the term, King!" I call after her, scowling.
What does she know?
Girls are immune.
Only dad and I understand the danger of the trashcan.