Pastor Dave wasn’t afraid of much. He’d stared down angry church members, wrestled with malfunctioning coffee machines, and even once performed an emergency baptism using a garden hose. But bed monsters? They were a new one.
Little Timmy, bless his cotton socks, was convinced they lived under his bed. Every night, the screams started. “They’re tickling my toes, Pastor Dave! And they’re stealing my Legos!”
Pastor Dave sighed. Timmy’s parents were at their wit’s end. “Alright, Timmy,” he declared, adjusting his glasses. “Tonight, we face these monsters together.”
That night, armed with a crucifix (just in case), a flashlight, and a can of air freshener that smelled suspiciously like bubblegum, Pastor Dave crawled under Timmy’s bed. Dust bunnies the size of small dogs greeted him. “Ahem,” he said, shining the light into the gloom. “Attention, bed monsters! This is Pastor Dave! I command you in the name of…cleanliness…to reveal yourselves!”
Silence. Then, a tiny, squeaky voice. “Are you going to yell?”
Pastor Dave peered closer. Two small, furry creatures with mismatched socks for hats were huddled in a corner, surrounded by Lego bricks. “Yell? Heavens, no! I’m just here to…negotiate.”
“Negotiate?” another squeaky voice piped up. “Do you have snacks?”
Pastor Dave, feeling a bit ridiculous, rummaged in his pockets. He pulled out a packet of jellybeans. “Behold! The offering!”
The bed monsters practically leaped onto him, snatching the jellybeans. “Are these…red? Red ones are our favourite! Timmy never leaves us red ones!”
One of the monsters, apparently the leader, cleared his throat. “Alright, Pastor Dave. We’ll make a deal. We’ll stop tickling Timmy’s toes and stealing Legos if…if you bring us a lifetime supply of red jellybeans.”
Pastor Dave thought for a moment. “I can do that. But no more Lego theft. And absolutely no more toe tickling.”
They shook (tiny, furry) hands.
The next morning, Timmy bounced into church. “Pastor Dave! The monsters are gone! They said they moved to…to the candy factory!”
Pastor Dave smiled, a single red jellybean clutched in his pocket. He knew the truth. The monsters hadn’t moved. He just kept bribing them with red jellybeans. It was cheaper than therapy. And besides, he thought, patting his pocket, those little guys were pretty good company. Especially when they offered to organize his sock drawer. But between you and me, the real monsters were the price of jellybeans these days.
