The Monster Under My Bed, in portraits by my nieces

January 3rd, 2015, 12am

It was 1.1°C with few clouds. The breeze was brisk.

Crazy uncles tell stories that defy disbelief. For instance, why would you refuse to believe me when I tell you that I have a kind, but rather fierce, monster who has ALWAYS LIVED WITH ME BENEATH MY BED. It is a well-known fact that imaginary creatures are not based on a tired, old lie. To live as an imaginary being, one must be prepared to curl up as small as a lost dream inside a sock, or to summon certain powers of visibility only when the doubters are unaware, sleeping, absent, or mired inside their own cubicles of blinded reality too busy to naysay on your changeling self, your elusive charms, your dedication to the flames of wonder and mischief that guide a soul as intrepid as only your human creature who believes in you must surely be.

Beings simply refuse not to be, and a host of scientists poking around with telescopes and microscopes and periscopes and endoscopic lasers might miss the fact that it is they who cannot invade your inviolate refuge inside the imaginary airs where dreams mingle with soothsayers, and where this solitary, devoted, kind monster is better than an indifferent realist who forgets to smile at the absurdity of love, of playing a game of hide and seek with what is now so clearly an unforgettable moment that a crazy uncle shares with his twin nieces. And hence, proving, once and for all, that wouldn’t you wish you knew a monster, too?

If you’d like to follow me on da Twitters, you can see all their drawings (the others are in b&w) and my oddball 140 character haiku on the monsters my nieces dreamed up one afternoon.

David Wade said thanks.

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Chris DeBarr

Chef who believes in eating the world to save it. Wine & language & sharp knives are the tools of my métier. At heart, I'm a warm & fuzzy Dadaist.

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