BLOODYBONES

My nephew, Steve, was four, and he wanted a bedtime story.  I had graduated from high school that year, and hitchhiked the 2500 miles to the home of my sister, Linda, and her family, in Wichita, Kansas. And Steve wanted his uncle Dale to tell him a bedtime story.  I sat down beside him on his bed, and began:

"There was once a little boy named Steve...and there was a monster named Bloodybones. Now Bloodybones was a skeleton with rotten, black, slimy flesh hanging from his bones, covered with blood.  And he was coming for Steve. First Bloodybones peeked into the window of Steve's house, and he saw that the little boy had gone to bed. Bloodybones then crept around to the back door. Then, Bloodybones was in the house."

Steve's eyes were as big as saucers set in a face of terror, and he began crying for his mommy.

"Bloodybones is in the kitchen."

"Mom!" shreaked Steve.

"Bloodybones is in the hallway."

Steve had pulled his knees up to his chest under the covers, and kept yelling for Linda to come.  "Mom! MOM!!"

"Bloodybones is at Steve's bedroom door."

"MOM!! MOM!!!"

Just then Linda finally came to his rescue.  Steve's eyes were tightly closed and he didn't see her. He kept screaming.

"Dale," said Linda disgustedly, "what are you doing?"

"I'm just telling him a bedtime story," I explained.

Steve opened his eyes and reached for his mother, and complained, "He's scaring me!"

"Dale," Linda reprimanded, and she lay down beside her trembling boy to comfort him.

I went on:  "Then Bloodybones covered his black, slimy, bloody flesh with a costume so he looked exactly like Steve's mother, and he came in and lay down next to Steve..."

Steve was shrieking now, without hope, and kicking and pushing his mother away. Before Linda could hit me, I laughed and got up and left the room. I really enjoyed telling my little nephew a bedtime story.

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