What the eldritch being under your bed wants

Truly a question for the ages─what might the eldritch being chilling under your bed want? In earlier days the answers to that question might have been someone's soul, but those were already sold in terms and conditions people had blindly accepted.

The unearthly horror beyond our imagination needed to go with the times. Yesteryear's terror was today's mild nuisance. Live through a pandemic or two and your view of things would surely come to change.

This was why new strategies had been evolved to counteract the new generation of fearlessness that would ensure therapists' job security for many years to come.

The monsters decided to be much more relatable compared to their usual incomprehensibility and began to mimic the greatest fears currently known to men. They caused bad character descriptions, unfathomable usage of modern English and storytelling that begged to redefine the meaning of uninspired.

They also invented cliffhangers, cringy sex scenes, all shapes and forms a harem could come in.

Now, I was not suggesting that these otherworldly creatures were authors themselves, but have you checked under your bed?

An author-infestation was a serious affliction that haunted many unsuspecting people every day. Worst of all, most of them did not even realize what kind of spawn of evil was hiding so close to them.

Forget one small change in a corner of a room and the authors would soon flock in attracted by the smell of coin.

They would consume unhealthy snacks and energy drinks and contaminate their entire surroundings with their sweat and inability to take showers.

The easiest way to get rid of such a pest was to host a WSA contest and let the trash take itself out. 10k Dollars and an anime adaptation made for a good bait to draw these vermins right out into the open.

Should the financial budget be tight, there were other methods to convince the new roommate to leave his dungeon.

Complicated literature, threats of homework or any bit of physical affection should confuse the troglodyte enough to seek out another fap cave.

Should the problem still persist it was advocated to steal their body pillow and sell that "waifu" a slang term coined to refer to their favourite anime character to a local vendor. The extraterrestrial specimen would then embark on a journey to find his beloved object.

In the meantime, one has plenty of time to disinfect the contaminated area to avoid the return of the invasive species.

This was only possible by their strong reliance on their olfactory sense to find back to their den.

Word of caution, the authors could be quite territorial as such they might leave rude comments on the net or use slang, which was hard to understand for the common folk. But fear not, these acts of imposing were merely threatening gestures to discourage the other rivals from competing for its spot.

One can safely ignore those, provided their bottom life, their body pillow and figurines of their "waifus" were not touched. In extreme cases, some people did lose an arm over provoking the wild creature.

Besides, having authors in your home was nothing shameful, 2/3 people would at some point in their life be affected by this blight. You don't have to be ashamed, seeking help was nothing to be afraid of.

STDs were an all too common scrouge. Yes, socially distanced denizens were nothing that should be talked about in sheer silence.

An open discussion needed to be held so that everyone could learn about them.

Okay, I might have lost the point I was trying to make, but this was a serious discussion that people just had to know about.

To sum up the previous issue though, the strange beings from a higher realm were just desiring money. No surprise to anyone that had read the prior chapters. And that's that about this very serious issue.

Whether we like to or not we had to live with the knowledge that these creatures of the night were now a part of society. The monsters beneath our beds were very much alive.

The nightmares might be walking right beside you at this very moment─in search of their body pillow...

Obvious threats aside, don't take them too seriously. Given their self-destructive personality, they were more of a threat to themselves than to other, more normal, humans. As long as one avoided handing over prize money for cheap stories you would be perfectly fine.

However, there was hope at the end of the horizon. Authors could be cured, all one needed to do was to smother their inspiration by putting them into a boring, soul-crushing job. Then, they would soon into normal cynics like everyone else.

True to the motto: Why should he be happy if I was not? People would only be truly satisfied when everyone was equally miserable.

Until death was allowed to forever redeem human misery from its dreary existence.

Therefore, as always, stay positive and enjoy life in all its sadness and inertia. For what more embodies joy in life than a longing for the passing?

Indeed, nothing spoke more for the grey office routine than such splendid desire for life. Aside from the desire that everyone should follow the same path in life because diversity was not welcome here.

You know, nobody liked those "happy" ones? They always seemed so happy and that ruined everyone's mood. How should one relish in their own pit of misery when others appeared so full of joy for no reason?

Was it not against the law to be so cheerful? How can one be so selfish and feel joy for oneself?

This rudeness could hardly be imagined. How could these people even look in the mirror without being torn apart by self-hatred?

I hope that one day these brutes would learn that they are polluting the world with so much positivity. They destroy everything that society has worked on for many centuries.

But as responsible citizens, it was our duty to bring those lost sheep back to the right path.

So that every man shall never be happy again.

That is what the eldritch being beneath your bed wanted too─or at least, we would pretend that we would want it....or else I would this entire chapter would not make any sense, to begin with.

As such, dear readers, please do not enjoy the next chapter because fun was illegal.