Monster at the End of This Bookstore

Posted by Aric McKeown on Feb 5, 2009 in In General | 1 comment

I entered the Borders bookstore in Minnetonka and was drawn, as all customers are, to the tables near the entrance. These are the tables that hold pretty looking hardcovers that just came out. While I had more than enough unread books at home, new and shiny things were nice to buy. I walked to the tables on an impulse. And, soon, I would be fighting another impulse with every fiber of my being.

You see, I was not the only patron that day. My back was to the entrance when a horrifying sound found its way in to the bookstore. A textured and unearthly sound. A deep and wet sound. The sound (pause) of a monster!

I know, I know. Monsters are not real. They are trapped forever within the walls of fiction. But I’m telling you folks, with as little profanity as I can, that there was a fucking monster behind me.

There I was, frozen in place while a monster slowly sucked in the streams of saliva that regularly flowed in and out of its massive jaws. Its throat was raw and coated with a dust of its previous victim’s bones. Would that last thing I see be a dumb Star Wars encyclopedia?

Every muscle in my body wanted to run away, screaming in terror. I wasn’t fighting, so obviously I should be flight-ing. But I neither fought nor took flight. I was stood in place. Because monsters are not real and I am (debatably) a grown man.

Still in a slight panic, but controlling my breathing and mind, I turned myself slightly so I could move on to the next impulse table. Being polite enough to not stare directly at the monster, I saw the creature out of my peripheral vision. The monster was a man in his 60s, bundled up in scarf and hat, acting like he had just run a marathon. This man, without any effort on his part, had created most terrifying sound I have ever heard.

And you know what? If that had been a monster, I would be dead. I would be dead because I didn’t want to hurt some guy’s feelings. I fought natural instinct because I didn’t want to cause a scene. And I will pass my damaged, society pleasing, genes on to my children because a monster didn’t tear me limb from limb like it should have.

Now, dear reader, you have two easy ways to sneak up and kill me. Either be very quite or be very loud and terrifying. The second ways sounds like a lot more fun for you.