Monstrous

I settled in for the night, snuggling down in my covers, shivering as I waited for my body heat to warm the sheets and pillow.
   Borzes cleared his throat, the sound rattling around the room. Borzes is the monster who lives under my bed.
   "Hey, sport," he called out. He calls me 'sport' because he can't remember my name. He drinks. "You gonna have a nightmare tonight?"
   "I don't think so," I murmured as my eyes closed. "Not much going on to have a nightmare about."
   Borzes grumbled, and I heard a few other squeaks and bubbles from his digestive system. He eats dreams, and finds nightmares particularly tasty. "Nothing? What about the state of the economy? Global warming? Your stalled career?"
   "Nope," I yawned, "all of that stuff is so far beyond my control there's no point in worrying, let alone having bad dreams."
   "Really? Not even your career?" my monster sounded both disappointed and angry. "That's firmly in your control."
   I laughed. "Hardly. Settle down, Borzes, maybe I'll have some sort of surreal Hieronymous Bosch kind of dream you can eat. You like the weird ones, don't you?"
   "I like nightmares better..." he groused. "What about serial killers? One could sneak in here and gut you like a fish."
   "Stop talking," I said.
   For a long time Borzes said nothing and I drifted down into slumber.
   "I could show you my true form." He sounded a little timid, almost frightened.
   "I've seen you," I said. "Remember, when I thought you were a mouse? Chased you with a flashlight? Honestly, you're not that scary. You're small enough to fit under a bed."
   Another long pause.
   "You're going to die alone and unloved."
   I sat up. "Seriously? You're trotting that one out? That's more a psychiatrist's couch thing than a nightmare. And it's not true anyway."
   "Ohhh..." I could hear the smile in his voice. "I got it. Something to wake you screaming at 3 AM."
   "You got nothing," I challenged, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
   "Marriage. Commitment. Kids. A house in the suburbs. Real responsibility to someone other than yourself. More debt than you have income to take care of. No more time to yourself..."
   "All right, cut it out!" I snapped as visions of kids and mortgages and college bills flew through my head.
   "Hit a nerve, didn't I?" Borzes chuckled. "Ah, I still got it. Still got it."
   "Shut up," I mumbled. I dug further into the covers. "I'm not going to have a nightmare, so you can just starve."
   "Sweet dreams," Borzes whispered as my eyes closed.