by Thomas Pomposelli, Congers, NYTo whom this may concern,My name is Marvin, and I guess I should let the reader know who is writing this. I'm an extremely depressed monster. I'm about eight feet tall, black, with yellow eyes and a lot of hair on my back (which is murder in the summer). What prompted me to write this is the simple fact that humankind simply irritates me, and when I get irritated, I get depressed. Very depressed. I wasn't always like this, though. If only I'd stayed in that ... oh wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning. Generally, I'm a peaceful monster. I stay in the closet all day, and at night I come out and grab a snack from the refrigerator. I love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I even try to keep quiet and not wake up little Jimmy, whose bedroom closet I live in. I spend most of my time either sleeping, eating or thinking about sleeping or eating. Unfortunately, we monsters have one-track minds. One time, though, I think it was last week, I was feeling hungry at about nine o'clock, which just happened to be Jimmy's bedtime. So I opened the closet door very slowly and peeked out. Not a sound. Great, I thought, it should be easy going tonight. I hesitated for a moment, thinking it was too quiet. I pressed on into Jimmy's room anyway, despite the nagging voice of my conscience telling me to stay in tonight.I tiptoed quietly around the bed and made my way to the door. I glanced back as I stepped into the doorway, but the bed hadn't moved. As I turned to make my way down the hall, there was Jimmy, standing in his pajamas with a glass of water in his hand. His eyes were as big as dinner plates. Just then, it dawned on me why he hadn't made a sound when he was in his bed. He never was in his bed to begin with!Jimmy took off down the hall, yelling for his parents and dropping the glass on the hardwood floor, which shattered it and spilled water all over the place. I stood in his doorway for a moment, dumbfounded, trying to contemplate what had happened. Just then, I decided that it was a good idea to start listening to my conscience and get out of there.I took off for the closet and shut the door behind me just as Jimmy came back with his parents. I thought that I was safe, and perhaps if I laid low for a few days, I would be back out of the closet, getting P. B. and J. sandwiches in no time. It wasn't till later that I learned about the water. Apparently, when Jimmy spilled the water, it ran over my feet and left my footprints running to the closet. Well, his dad took pictures and now there's a round-the-clock watch on my closet, and so I helped further the bad name for monsters.So now I have to spend the rest of my days cooped up in Jimmy's closet, and the next sandwich I'll eat is when Jimmy's family moves out. So you see why you should listen to the little voice in your head, because it might just help you out. Sincerely, Marvin 1