Carson 1

caleb Carson
Mrs. V
English 100
20, Sept. 2014

The Beast in the Cupboard

Run! Run-go-get out! Hes coming! I shouted at Lee as I thrust him through the
china door into the back room. Our goal was to submerge ourselves within the sanitary
and safe confines of the comforters that made their home on my purple futon. Never
had we been in such danger, as a beast of strange proportions and species chased us
with such fiery passion, all while brandishing a weapon of solid ice. The best wore
nothing more than a single undergarment (thank goodness he at least had that) and had
a look of, well what appeared to be joy.
I looked back just as I passed through the door and saw his evil grin; heard his
high-pitched laugh. As I turned forward again, Lee had already dove under the safe
haven of blankets, and I was soon to follow. What is this seemingly fictional beast you
ask? The beast was my four year-old brother.
This was a pretty typical day in my household. With my mother at work, it was
usually just my friend(s) and I, along with my little brother, trying to survive on Hot N
Ready pizza and cereal. Lee is four years older than me, and we have been friends
since I was seven, and he was eleven. Even though there was a fairly big age
difference, a bond (probably a trauma bond as you will soon find out) was formed at a
young age, and still continues today.

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It was a normal day inside my home in Lowell, on 416 Howard St., with Lee and I
playing video games while, watching my little tasmanian bother. It was close to
midway through the day when Chaims (my little brothers) premeditated attack plan was
put into action.
Chaim has the reputation of a crazy child and has caused us much pain, along
with laughter in the past. And by past I mean yesterday, and practically every day
before that. Based on that knowledge, an attack was certain to take place. Although, we
were not overly concerned as generally his attacks could be subdued with a pillow and
some dead weight. (However he still usually got the first hit in before we could).
Anyway, as we became submerged in our favorite game, Phantasy Star, he
struck. It started as a ranged attack from a point that we were unable to locate. The
projectile in question was an ice cube fresh from our freezer! Nearly hitting us it
exploded in an icey furry. Shards were thrown throughout the room by the violent force
of the contact between the cube and wall. My vision blurred and I felt the adrenaline
start to pump rapidly throughout my body, preparing me for battle. He struck again, this
time with multiple ice bombs thrown with one tiny fist, as one found their mark on Lees
upper thigh. I decided to go on the offensive, with Lee bringing up the rear. We headed
for the door to take a peak; Chaim was nowhere to be seen, sinking into the shadows
as an elusive and majestic beast. We assumed he was probably reloading, and Lee and
I ran into the kitchen with an idea that we could subdue the monster before he had time
to launch another air attack, or potentially, something worse.
As we dared a look around the corner into the kitchen, my senses were suddenly
heightened. I felt the icy tile beneath my feet, and a slight draft of air coming from the

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cupboard. Wait A draft coming from the cupboard? He struck! The little monster was
hiding in the pantry! The beast flew through the pantry doors as he latched onto Lees
back, rapping on his head with small fists!
Lee!
Caleb, man down man down!
I got you!
In desperation I wrapped my fingers around the torso of the beast and tore him
from Lees body. His wounds were pretty bad I quickly assessed, while Chaim lay
momentarily dazed on the floor. Lee would live. I put his arm over my shoulder as I
practically dragged his limp body through the dining room. We were nearly there when
the unthinkable happened. I heard a screech of laughter from behind us. I turned
around to see the beast, still of course wearing only a small covering. We had to get to
the safe zone fast or we would be goners for sure. I thrust Lee forward.
Run! Run-go-get out! Hes coming! I shouted at Lee as I thrust him through the
china door into the back room. Our goal was to submerge ourselves within the sanitary
and safe confines of the comforters that made their home on my purple futon. Dont
worry we made it. But the worst had only just begun.
We made it into the blankets that provided us priceless safety from the rain of ice
cubes and the grouping hands of a four year old. After being used as a bouncy house
for what seemed like countless hours, the tortuous attack finally relented. An eerie
silence filled the room, and quite frankly I could no longer stand to be in what had
become a supreme dutch oven. I poked my head out, gasping for air like a meerkat
from his den. The coast was clear of the animal. I assumed (a terrible idea in retrospect,

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but I couldnt stay there forever) that he had become unsatisfied with his persecution of
our sanity and physical well-being, and had moved onto other precarious activities.
However, this is when the true horror began. After rubbing the ice around in the
front of his underpants, he proceeded to stick the ice in his mouth! WHat followed will
haunt me for the rest of my life. Chaim spit the festering cubes of ice at me. I was hit.
DIrectly on the back of my right hand.
Ahhhhh! It buuuurns!
I dove into the comparatively sanitary blankets, practically hyperventalating as I
sucumbed to a state of shock. Its all a blur now, but I can remember the screams. The
terrible screams. And the never ending hit of the same ice cube on our shelter. As I
peeked from under my keep, I saw that he was repeating the process I described
earlier. Over, and over, and over again- Rubbing, spitting. Rubbing, spitting. His long
golden bowl cut locks bouncing as he giggled nefariously, filled with the joy of torturing
us- his favorite past time.
I was an average day that day. Nothing seemed out of the norm. All in all, it was
actually a pretty decent day hanging out with my friend.
Caleb, Im home! My mom hollered from the front door. I brought a pizza
home.
Awesome! Lee and I said in unison.
We sat down at the table to enjoy our pizza in the dining room on the hard
wooden floors, just outside the back room. My mom asked, How was your day?
Lee and I just kinda glanced at each other. Oh you know. The usual.

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Author Reflection
It is easy to focus on the bad things in life, the tough things, the difficult times. It
is far more difficult I think, to find the good, and to meditate on those positive memories
of our past. I know I have plenty of negative memories from my difficult childhood; but it
is my choice to see the good in it. This memory of my past seems silly, and especially
crazy, but it something I have to remind me of the good friends I had with me on my
journey, and the fun I was able to have. Fun that made me feel like a normal kid, with
normal problems. When I think of this memory I dont think of divorce, or sadness, or
drugs, but instead of the fun and joy I had as a little kid of Ten. That is why this crazy
memory of mine is significant for me, because it represents all the fun I had, even when
times were tough.