Sales Monster

Snortles said she

wished to cease being

a monster under so

many sleeping beds.

She said she wished

she worked in sales

at a mattress store

as a sleeping consultant.

Snortles said she

wished her name was

Cindy, and certainly not

Snortles: the Sandman Strangler.

Snortles sobbed and sighed,

stomped her hooves in the sand

and swung her tail recklessly

in her supervisor’s office.

“Snortles,” said her Supervisor,

“You can’t sell the sleeping beds,

your scales and sharp incisors would

scare the customers.”

Her Supervisor snarled and smoke

spewed from his stack. He steamed

and stoked and hissed. “It’s just how

it is Snortles,” he said.

“Call me Cindy,” she said.

She wiped her snot on her

sleeve and stood from her seat,

“My name is Cindy and I sell mattresses!”

She stormed out, slamming her

supervisor’s door. Thinking about

Melanie Griffiths and starting things

over like Working Girl from the cinema.

“I’m Cindy,” she said to herself,

“I’m Cindy and I’m strong.”

And that’s why there’s no

monster under your bed

anymore.