Vac, the monster that stole my mornings

We all carry demons with us. Some are kept in the closet, like that evil monkey that made Chris Griffin (Family Guy) piss his pants every time he had to change the shirt. Some are embraced so if you are lucky enough, you may be getting that fluffy type of monster from Monster Inc. Most of us get to carry those monsters on our shoulders since we were kids.

Usually, we grow up with monsters. We get them sometime in childhood, because of some trauma or some insecurity, maybe Uncle Ben was a little too friendly with you when you were 14, maybe our pet died along the way paving it with a bad taste about life... who knows? We are all different and the monsters we develop are quite unique. More or less like fingerprints.

Inheriting Vac

Vac is living now in the drawer of my furniture. He is mostly asleep and like a vampire, he only crawls out ar certain points in time. When he is needed, he might say.

First time I met him, I think I was about 9 or 10 years old. It may be that he was there even earlier than that because he is a creature of my imagination that is associated with my mother. Not in the sense that she is the monster but I somehow think that she contributed a lot to his creation. That's because my mother is a cleaning freak. So it wouldn't be a surprise that he was dormant for a lot of time or maybe I was ignoring him and only remember him at about that age.

What I know for sure is that he was ruining my Saturday mornings. The sweetest sleep I ever had was ruined by his presence and his voice. Wielded by my mother's hands he would scream his voice of thunder in my relaxed ears. It was a pain in the ass alone to get up at 6:30, Monday to Friday, every week, to go to school. Why Lord? Oh why, wouldn't you let a poor child soul rest and fuck his most precious weekend morning by that fullish tradition?

With his long tail and that snake alure, so slimy looking, such a devilish sound, I would hear him approaching my room, closer and closer, in a desperate clutch of suction, mouth hitting the wooden floor like a madman banging his head against the pavement and my mother in her "easy" wardrobe, hair pointing out in all direction, like a madwomen, broken out of the madhouse by the monster in her arms, screaming out my name: "Bogdan! WAKE THE FUCK UP it's cleaning time!"

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! It's the end of the world as we know it.

Next second after the wake-up call (if I can call it that) it would be under my bed. I would open my eyes and only see Vac's tail sticking out from under my bed, like an alien tentacle sucking up the insides of a dead carcass. Me, with eyes still sticky with morning goo (not dew), would ask, innocent and sweet: "But why so early mommy?"

The answer would come like a fist in my empty stomach: "It's 8 o'clock! It's not early".
On what, God forgotten planet, 8 is not early for a kid?

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Living with Vac as an adult

I've had to live with Vac all my life. Even though I tried "broom therapy" a long time, during University and then postponed him until the kid appeared, now Vac is back. He's like that rodent you thought you've killed but then he appears in the next episode and he stole all your food. He is like the rash you never needed but then you've found out that it's nice to have it because it feels nice to scratch it. Sick thought.

He is not stealing mornings anymore, I've managed to teach him that at least. But I see him staring at me when he's taken out to play. He is checking me out from behind the sofa as he sucks-up dirt and vruuums his voice around.

Maybe it's only in my head but I can hear him telling me "I'll fuck up your mornings sooner or later, just you wait!"

Oh, I swear to God I'm gonna cut your freaking power cord you damn monster. Sometimes, when I'm about to fall asleep on the sofa, watching TV and my sleep stumbles on the reality still flickering, I feel like his coming out of that drawer his been consigned to. Twilight Zone melody playing and I almost can see that snake-like tail coming, slithering out, like a worm coming to suck on me.

And like in my youth, he is under some human protection. He gets them zombie somehow, usually females. At first, it was my mother. Now, it is my girlfriend. I see him staying there, between her legs, while she holds that tentacle of his and moves it firmly and he screams! He moans! And he looks at me, I know he does. And I knoooow he's thinking "Here sucker, I got between your girlfriend's legs too, not only your mother's!"

I'm gonna cut you one of these days, you freak!

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I know I should be friend with him but he's a monster! And you don't make friends with monsters, do you? Especially with the ones screaming so loud when they greet you. Maybe I have a sensible ear or something but I know from experience that the sound he's making, that infinite hissing of his, soothes crying, small babies. It's supposed to be close to the frequencies the blood makes when travelling through the veins of the mother and that's what the baby hears for nine months down there. So you see? I was right a little bit higher in the article when I said that my monster may be with me for a longer time than I thought.