I see the monster with big pink lips and seven black eyes all lined with ink. I press my finger into his soft round skull, tap gently on his sharp white teeth. Wet your hands in his spittle. Let him leap at your face and rip into your arms. Let him tear the red flesh from your bones. He is here for your Budweiser. He has come for your weed. He bites your cans and pierces their guts, then sucks out their juices and foam. He stands on your bones and spits into rubber. He chews on your tight, sticky buds, then washes his mouth with your vodka and wine. Hide your pills. Tuck them neatly. Place them high on the shelf. Cover your arms, drape your shoulders, this monster has come for your Budweiser and weed, your children, your husband, your family, your wife.