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Quite A Far-Fetched Adventure
by Erin Pohlkamp
When I was eight, I saw the most frightening
movie of the times, (no thanks to my very responsible baby-sitter,) and couldn't
sleep for weeks because I was scared that a giant "pumpkin monster" was going to
come and hang me from a tree by my toenails, or duct tape me to the wall and use me for
target practice. I talked to my dad about it one night, and explained to him that I knew
that there was a monster out there, and he had dibs on me - a tender little slice of veal.
My dad reassured me quickly, saying, "Don't worry, I made a deal with all of
the monsters years ago that they'd stay out of our yard."
"Oh
really? What did you give them?" I asked.
"Well,
have you ever wondered why the deer never eat our gardens?"
"No."
"Let's
just say that I gave the monsters a little tip on where to find a quick bite."
I was never afraid of
monsters again.
Three years later, my big
fear was goblins. I have no idea where it came from, but every night I swore that I
could hear them getting closer and closer. Their ugly skin oozing and gurgling onto
my front porch, I could hear the door knob turn, my window being tapped. When my
father asked me one morning why I looked so tired, I answered simply:
"The
goblins kept me up all night."
My dad sighed and said,
"I guess I'll have to sleep out there every night?"
"Would
you?" I inquired, relieved, "Will you sleep out there every night?"
"No
honey," my father answered, "The goblins are scared to death of me. All I
need to do is to sleep outside for one night, and they'll remember that I'm here,"
my father smiled, "I'll give those old witches a good scare too - they won't
even step outside for months after they see me.
That night, my father
slept outside on the swing on our front porch, and I slept peacefully up in my bedroom,
never again to be afraid of goblins or witches.
As I grew up, I was one
of the most fearless people that I knew. Every fear that I had, my father had a
reason for me to not be afraid. When I didn't want to jump off of the swing rope and
into the water, my father said,
"Don't
worry about it, Julia, old Smokey will make sure that you don't get hurt."
I held even tighter to
the rope, "Who's that, Daddy?"
"Smokey's
the sea monster that lives in our lake."
I
gasped, "Now I"m not going in for sure."
"No,
he won't hurt you. Smokes and I go way back. Practically to the Mesozoic era.
He'll make sure that you have a nice landing when you swing off of that
rope."
I
smiled and jumped.
Then there
was the time that I wouldn't go in to the forest because I was afraid that the gnomes
would get me. (That fear came from my neighbor, Mrs. Beasly. She had a
collection of four-hundred fifty-two gnomes and they were all in her front yard. One
night, a burglar on his way out of her house tripped over one gnome and fell on top of
another. He ended up with a broken leg and a sprained wrist. The police were
thankful, but I was dead sure that the little gray one in the corner had an evil look in
his eyes.) My dad said, "Well, Jules, I hate to brag, but one day when I as out
on the lake, I had to spend the night on the shore somewhere because the fog was too thick
to see in. I met a few gnomes, and they all thought that I was their returned
king," my dad shook his head sadly, "You should have seen how they cried when I
left. I promised I'd come back again, and with presents," he frowned,
thoughtfully, "We should visits them soon."
Whenever
I was afraid, I'd always go to my father. It was the greatest comfort that I had
growing up.
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