Rattlesnake

rattle, rattle, hiss—

i~risss, no, no, father, please—

whimper—nhhh—weep—kiss.

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Footnote for the squeamish:

Yes, I picked a real monster over the rubber kind. He doesn’t drip ectoplasm; he pays bills on time and volunteers at school fetes. That’s the trick, isn’t it? Evil with a receipts folder. If this reads like a dare, it is: look straight at the thing under the bed when it’s wearing a tie and asking about homework.

Don't. Don't look away! See this. If your pulse got loud—that’s the Geiger counter of truth. Handle with care, and if you must light a candle, make it a floodlight.