It just didn't

seem fair that everyone else got a bedroom to himself, but I had to always

share my room with Twin Brother Mark. We shared everything: long pants

during the winter, short pants during the summer, shoes, socks, shirts

and the worst thing was we even had to share our toys. At six years old,

we shared everything, even the monster that lived under the bed.

The Under-the-Bed

Monster did not like summer thunderstorms. The monster would scurry across

the room and hide in the closet before the first flash of lighting was

finished. The Under-the-Bed Monster was fast; that's why when we yelled

and Mom cut on the lights, she never saw him.

When the lighting

flashed across the night sky the second time, it was Twin Brother Mark

and I scurrying - to hide under the bed. We knew there was plenty of room

there; the Under-the-Bed Monster was in our closet.

Our parents

did not believe the story of the Monster. They thought it was just a ploy

on our part so we wouldn't have to clean our room. They didn't believe

us when we told them the Under-the-Bed Monster had a brother - one who

lived in the dryer and ate little boys' socks.

We couldn't

convince them that the Dryer Monster was real or the Under-the-Bed Monster

was his big brother. They were the reasons why we lost so many socks and

didn't clean under our beds. The Under-the-Bed Monster was also the reason

we had a Mason jar of lighting bugs in our room at night during the summer.

He was scared of lighting bugs too.

Our house sat

up on a hill with a back yard that led down to the edge of a swamp. Over

the years the swamp yielded many treasures, one of which seemed to be

an endless supply of lighting bugs. Every night, just after sundown, our

back yard would fill with little flashes of yellow and orange light. Neighbor

Thomas and Neighbor Brad would come over to camp out on the weekends just

to catch our lighting bugs.

After a dinner

consisting of roasted hot dogs and flaming marshmallows, we would use

glass Mason jars to catch our little fireflies. We punched air holes in

the metal lids using a nail and one of dad's hammers. (We lost more of

dad's hammers that way.) Each of us caught ten or so lighting bugs and

sealed them in the jars with the lids twisted on tight. Some lit up their

abdomens in yellow; others lit the back of their heads in orange, but

all lit up our tents at night and kept the Under-the-Tent Monster from

coming out.

After a weekend

filled with rope swinging up at the lake, dirt clod battles, watermelon

seed spitting (a story for the fourth of July) and the great marshmallow

war, we took our Mason jar of lighting bugs