The light was dim in the bedroom. The closet door swung open an inch with a quick creak. A slightly longer creak could have been the house settling, could have been the tree outside shifting against the house, but this creak was just perfect so a listener would know it was the closet door opening slightly, and stopping, though not by accident. Perhaps by a hand?

As good as a hello, that short creak, or a boo. It filled the room and seemed to soak into the walls, and faded slowly.

The door opened into a boy’s room. Obviously a boy’s room. The bed at the center was rolling with monster truck sheets. The far walls were  shelves jammed with military toys and robots and trucks onto every inch. Pincer hands and back tires poked tenuously over the edges in many places. Above the bed hung a black dragon kite wearing a baseball cap, the streamers of its tail flying above a desk and a computer. Socks, shirts, coils of pants, covered everything. The laundry basket in the corner was empty, feeling pointless.

The door opened and darkness spilled out. As the door opened slowly, noiselessly now that that initial creak had happened, an inky shadow sharply fell – not merely darkness – the absence of light – but a projection of black, the opposite of light. The clown nightlight in the plug next to the door struggled against it and failed; its red nose dimmed. A scent like musty old dust followed the shadow, billowing into the room like stormy snow on a wintery day.

The lump of the boy on the bed was very still. The boy was asleep. The darkness could hear his sleep noise.

“HONK! PEEEWWWWW. HONK! PEEEWWWWWWWW.” 

Very loud snores. There was even a whistle following some. The boy was very asleep. Practically in a coma.

From the shadows surrounding the bed a tiny voice said, “Kick the beastie inna scones!” 

The voice was hushed by a second voice and the billowing darkness did not hear.

A webbed and scaly foot stepped onto the carpet. A wet and gurgled breathing came from the closet. Stealthily, another foot followed the first: scales, tumours, long toenails, sticking from every angle.

The same tiny voice whispered, “Kick him inna scones?”

A gravelly voice answered, “Somebody shut him up or I’ll bite his head off.”

The light from the clown’s nose dimmed further as the creature from the black closet stepped fully into the room. It’s top half was hidden by shadow. Two inch claws extended from its hands, raised up to its chest with its fingers splayed. It turned towards the bed.

“Now?”

“Wait ‘til it’s away from the door.”

“Green bastard.”

“I’m going to ignore that, soldier.”

What little light had survived in the room crawled up the monster’s muscled torso which resembled a turtle’s shell, as it took another step forward.

“NOW!”

Billy flung his sheets back and hopped up from the bed in his pyjama fatigues with the sleeves torn off. With a satisfying WHAM!, and a rush of air, the closet door slammed shut behind the monster, effectively cutting off his escape and severing the dark shadow in the room. Light burst from every corner and the floor exploded into an anthill of activity. The Joe Corp, which had been hiding in two pairs of strategic jeans and four dirty tube socks, on the floor, surged forward pushing a rolling chair and a lamp on roller-skates. Positions were secured, flanks were rounded. What looked like a concentrated madness was actually a carefully wrought and well executed plan. Each soldier knew his job and in seconds flat the monster was contained inside an impenetrable triangle formed between the chair, the lamp, and the closet doorknob.

Penned in with a red skipping rope made of the world’s toughest known material: stretchable plastic, the monster barked in exclamation, tried to retreat a step and found itself blocked. It extended claws and lurched toward the Joe Corp at its feet, but was blocked by the barrier of the skipping rope. 

Hands on his hips, Billy surveyed the scene with pride. His men had done well. It had been a long time since the enemy had tried an incursion into his deepest stronghold, his very inner sanctum where most of his troops were stationed. It was daring, and it was stupid. His intelligence corps had reported that the monsters were going to make a push for the heart of his operation, hoping to catch him off guard.

They must be desperate to try such a doltish plan, decided Billy. They’re weakening. Their penetration into the attic has left them stretched, and they know it. They’ll try anything.

Billy came around the bed. “Good job men.”

“Target secured, commander,” saluted John the T-Rex the best he could with his short arms. 

Fightmaster Stormshadow had immediately climbed atop the chair upon securing the monster inside its makeshift pen. From there he yelled, “We snookered the beastie good!”

Billy saluted him. “Well done, Fightmaster Stormshadow.”

On the floor, John the T-Rex, Billy’s chief of the engineering corps, sighed. “Sir, I have a complaint to make against that soldier. Who’s his commanding officer?”

“Fightmaster Stormshadow is special forces, lieutenant. He works alone.”

He’s been most unruly. I feel he put the operation in jeopardy.”

Billy shrugged. “Special forces. Nothing I can do about it.”

John the T-Rex had recently been promoted to head of the engineering corps, replacing the Joe Corps’ Engineer, Tollbooth. The Joe Corps had needed a fresh infusion of ideas; they’d grown complacent of late, too sure of themselves. So Billy had promoted John the T-Rex. He knew it would be difficult for John to fit into a platoon which already had tight-knit bonds with one another, especially seeing one of their own was being replaced. But Billy had faith in the Joe Corps. They always did what was best for the company.

And if they didn’t, he’d given John the T-Rex permission to eat them. That had helped too.

The penned creature was dodging back and forth in what little space it had. It was ugly, with skin stretched between his toes and fingers, scales on its arms, and a hard carapace for a stomach. A black color, with knobs and protrusions all over like pieces of tar, it looked like a suit of armour with a fish’s head.

Something about that struck Billy as odd.

“Alphie,” said Billy into his wrist, “Does this monster look familiar to you?”

Alphie was always at the ready, and answered immediately. “Yes, sir. Definitely.”

Billy waited. Alphie did not elaborate.

“Well, Alphie?”

Alphie sounded reluctant. “We have captured the Creature from the Black Lagoon, sir.”

Billy looked up at the monster’s fish head. Its tiny fishy slits of eyes were watching him carefully, and gave him the willies. Alphie was right. It was the Creature from the Black Lagoon; No doubt about it. Even the way it was standing with its knees bent, it looked like it wanted to be hovering over a darling in a swimsuit.

Atop the back of the chair, Fightmaster Stormshadow said, “Should nae have watched that movie t’other night, eh Commander. Purdy scurry for a wee one, nae?”

Billy turned red. “I’ll write you up for insubordination, soldier! Not another peep from you.” Such blatant dissension among the ranks could not be tolerated.

“Had y’shakin’ in your knickers, eh sir.”

“You see what I mean,” said John the T-Rex. “Most unruly.”

Billy sighed. He had to admit he had a soft spot for Fightmaster Stormshadow since he’d sacrificed his own well being in order to save him from Aunt Sylvia’s fruitcake.

“He’s not in his right mind, Lieutenant. He’s a fine soldier. Special forces.”

John said, “If I may, sir, I believe the term, special forces, when applied to this soldier, has an entirely different meaning.”

“Nothing I can do, lieutenant.”

Damned monster scum. Be the ruin of us all. Nobody in this war is in their right mind. But I have to endure, have to keep fighting. For freedom. For the children. For the right to bare arms. Why bare arms were important Billy wasn’t sure, but he’d damn well fight for them. He’d already torn the sleeves off most of his pyjamas as a gesture of solidarity.

Billy flicked on another lamp near the end of his bed and rolled it closer to the Creature. His room was filled with lamps. With such firepower at his disposal, he could kill a scary shadow at a hundred yards. To navigate his room he often had to walk around them as they were scattered strategically. He liked to be able to reach out and flick on a light at any time.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM, MONSTER?!” yelled Billy. “Do you think you can intimidate me with these sneak tactics? How many men – monsters – do you have guarding your headquarters in the basement? What is your overall troop strength? What are your preparations for Valentine’s Day? Answer me!”

The Creature barked shrilly and lolled its tongue out of its mouth.

Billy looked to John the T-Rex. John looked back at him. Not what they were expecting.

Billy tried again. “Monster! What are your primary objectives? Where do you plan to attack next?”

Beside him, John said, “It’s okay, er, monster. Nobody here will hurt you. You just have to tell us what we want to know.”

Good man, that lieutenant. Billy commended himself for promoting him. Perhaps he’d give himself a medal for it later.

The monster stared back at them with its yellow eyes, and then barked at them again.

John muttered, “What the hell?”

Billy was cautious. Has to be some sort of trick. These monsters are devious, unscrupulous, not to mention big jerks. Eat your feet as soon as look at you. Too much is at stake. We have to be on our guard.

The Creature from the Black Lagoon looked behind itself and then spun around three times before sitting on the floor where with one huge, hooked flipper on its foot, it scratched where its ears would be if it had ears and not tiny holes in its head.

Billy raised his wrist, stupefied. “Alphie, are you reading this?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What do you make of it?”

“It’s a dog, sir.”

“Dammit Alphie, it’s the Creature from the Black Lagoon and a monster spy, not Fido the wonder puppy.”

The Creature from the Black Lagoon had curled up on the floor with its scaly head resting on one of its crooked arms, looking at Billy with sad yellow eyes.

“All behavioural indicators point to dog, sir,” said Alphie.

Is everybody here crazy but me? “Goddammit, Alphie, it’s not a dog. Look at it! It could eat six dogs in one sitting and not even chew. It’s got claws as long as bullets and teeth as sharp as a shark’s. It’s a killing machine from the deeps!”

“It’s trying to lick its butt, sir.”

Fightmaster Stormshadow was growing animated on the back of the chair, shifting foot to foot, stretching his neck for a better view. “He canna quite reach sir, but he’s givin’ it a devil of a try.”

This is going nowhere. “End communication, Alphie.”

“Over.”

“Ach, now he’s got it,” said Fightmaster Stormshadow. “Atta boy, beastie. G’it in there.”

Billy put his hands over his face and rubbed his eyes. “Gentlemen,” he said, sounding tired, “this monster before us is not a dog. It is quite obviously the Creature from the Black Lagoon, or ‘a’ Creature from the Black Lagoon. I don’t know if there are more of these... things. What I do know is that – and I repeat – it is not a dog; it is a vicious killing machine. So you can forget all that dog stuff right now. That's the sort of stupid howash you'd see in a bad 1950's movie. Gentlemen, this is the enemy!”

John the T-Rex cleared his throat, which was a guttural process, and said,  “Not hogwashing, sir. I believe Alphie was referring to brainwashing.”

“Brainwashing?”

“Yes, sir.”

“E’s not quite finished with ‘is backside yet,” called Fightmaster Stormshadow, “but he very well might do his brain next. His tongue’s long enough, sure it is. Damn impressive.”

Billy ignored this. For many reasons. And looked very conspicuously nowhere else but at John the T-Rex. “Brainwashing the Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why on earth would the monsters do that?”

John simply shrugged.

Matters were getting out of hand. “It is not a dog. It is a monster sent here to scare us, to rip us into tiny pieces of sushi, and eat us. Is that clear?” Why do I need to explain this? Billy had to pull this together. The only way they were going to settle the point was by making it admit it was a vicious killing machine by any means possible.

Billy turned back to the creature and put his hands behind his back. “Lieutenant,” he said, “I do not relish what we have to do, but the good of our... our good is at stake here. Extract the necessary information from the creature by any means possible. We must make it tell us its mission, John. That is our prime imperative.”

“Sir?”

“Make sure to find the whereabouts of the monsters’ forward base. They are up to something, lieutenant. I can smell their leathery hides toiling away day and night, meaning to destroy us.”

“Um, sir?”

“Diabolical plans are afoot.”

“Sir, I really think you should see this....”

“What is it, lieutenant?”

“Look, sir.” John pointed towards the creature’s pen with his stubby arm.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” cried Billy, finally losing his composure. “Fightmaster Stormshadow, what the hell are you doing, man?”

Fightmaster Stormshadow had jumped down inside the protective pen caging the creature and was rubbing the monster’s belly. “’E likes a good pat, sir,” said the ninja.

“Goddammit, cease and desist that, immediately, soldier. There shall be no... fraternizing... with the enemy!”

“Everybody likes a good pat, I figure,” Fightmaster Stormshadow laughed. “I know I does, depending on wheres you do it.”

The Creature’s eyes were rolled back in its head and because it lacked a tail, it swished its foot back and forth instead, apparently enjoying the belly rub immensely.

John the T-Rex could not stop watching. “This is most unusual, isn’t it, sir?”

Billy took a deep breath. “The damn thing thinks it’s a dog,” he said. There could be no other explanation for what he was seeing. No creature, especially one that lived in the bottom of the ocean, never to see the light of the above world except when it had a sudden desire for bikinied flesh, could fake such a look of intense contentment as Billy was seeing right then. He believes. He truly believes. Incredible. Billy surveyed the monsters grimace of joy and dismissedd the idea that he might even be a little jealous.

“What are your orders, sir?” asked John the T-Rex. “Should I still fetch my pliers and blowtorch?”

“I have soccer tomorrow,” said Billy. “And it’s very late. I’m going to bed. We’ll deal with this in the morning. Tell the Joe Corps to set up a perimeter around the creature. No one gets in and out. Two man watches, high and low, at all times. The utmost level of attention,  you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

"And because Fightmaster Stormshadow seems to have taken such a shining to the thing, let him take care of its toilet and dietary needs. I hope they’re ample.”

At this John sounded more pleased. “Oh, yes sir. Bikini women twice a day, sir?”

“Dearth of those around here, I’m afraid, lieutenant. Tell Fightmaster Stormshadow to scrounge up whatever he can find. And lieutenant....?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell him to stay away from my jelly worms. If I find any missing, I’ll strap him in a bikini and feed him to the monster. Goodnight. And job well done lieutenant.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

Billy crawled back into bed, yawned, and turned out the light. Closing his eyes, however, did little to calm his mind, which continued searching, searching. Billy needed answers. Only he wasn’t entirely sure what the questions were yet.

There’s something I’m missing about this whole thing. What is it? Why the Creature from the Black Lagoon? Other than the obvious...? It belongs in the water, not in a closet. It’sa fish out of water. It probably couldn’t even run very fast if I had tried to escape. Those gills on its neck were working overtime just standing there.

His mind wanted to wander away from the creature to other matters, but Billy wouldn’t allow it. He had to focus. He had a mystery at hand, a monster trapped in the very heart of his operation. It was unsettling. He could smell the scent of brine and sea salt wafting off the creature from where it was penned up, ten feet away. He could hear Fightmaster Stormshadow’s coos of reassurance to the creature. They had the opposite effect on Billy. They were most unsettling.

Why brainwash a hideous monster from the deeps into believing it’s a human pet? There’s something I’m missing. Maybe the monster has four other monsters inside of it like a Russian doll? Maybe he’s infected with some sort of evolved form of cooties? Hell, maybe they did it just to mess with us?

Billy snickered at the thought. If that was the case, he’d foiled their plans. He’d gone to bed instead of fretting all night and being a loopy grump the next morning. He’d get his beauty sleep, mixed-up monster or not. If the enemy was filming his antics somehow for their own amusement, perhaps through a hidden hook-up on the Creature, they wouldn’t see much since he’d fooled them and turned out...

The light!

Billy bolted upright in bed and yelled, “LIGHTS ON! EMERGENCY ACTION ALPHA! OPERATION SPOTLIGHT! GO GO GO!”

Billy fumbled for his bedside lamp. It was pitch black in the room. His hand spilled the glass of water his mom had placed by his bedside. He bumped his alarm clock. For Billy, every spot of exposed white skin tingled, expecting the touch of a cold claw.

The room is dark! My nightlight is dead!

Around him in the darkness he heard the click click click of lamp buttons being pushed, lamp chains being pulled. Still there was darkness. He pulled his legs up tight and fumbled for his lamp knob. Where’s my damn light? A shuffle of worry was spreading through the room as troops bumped into one another in their confusion. The floor was awash with dizzy motion and a growing buzz of concern.

Finally a lamp lit in the corner of the room, near the closet. Then another nearby. Billy could see his lamp button clearly now. How he had missed it he didn’t know. In his excitement his hand must have circled it multiple times.

Billy raised himself to his knees and looked over the edge of his bed. No monster hands, tentacles, no suckers. The coast was clear. More lamps lit all around the room. “Light them all,” he ordered. “All the lights.”

Soon lamps were lighting across the span of the room, but it was clear there was a dead zone around the bed on all sides, and the nightlight was not just burned out, it was gone. 

Billy spoke into his wrist radio. “Alphie, is everybody present and accounted for?”

“Yes, sir. We’re all here.”

“The creature, is it still penned?”

“Affirmative, sir. Even if it wasn’t, I think Fightmaster Stormshadow has a new pet.”

Billy rubbed his chin. “Dammit, Alphie, how many troops did we have stationed around the bed during the earlier operation.”

Alphie sounded more cold and logical than ever. “None, sir. We needed every last one to push the chairs and man the skipping ropes. Ten men still in the infirmary, sir. Necessary, sir.”

"It was all a feint, Alphie.”

Those bastards. Such effort simply to make a statement. 'We can get at you.' That’s what they’re saying. They snuck into my room and stole my nightlight right out from under my nose. Devious bastards. We didn’t expect the bed. Dammit. Dammit. At times like this Billy wished he were old enough to puff on a pipe to calm himself. That always seemed to work in the movies.

Billy scrounged up more troops from the lowest layers of his toybox. Old care bears were conscripted into service, also a broken dump truck with a face, and a spiderman missing one arm. He placed the new soldiers in easy positions and spread his troops as thin as he dared to cover the entirety of the room, all the exits. More to the point, all the entrances: mainly the closet, the bed, beneath his dresser. From his drawer he dug out two replacement bulbs for strategic lamps which had been sabotaged. That being done he sat up in his bed holding a flashlight in either hand, determined to stay alert, and remain with his troops to keep morale high after their mutual failure.

In the corner the Creature from the Black Lagoon was curled up on the floor and snoring happily. He would be the only one getting any sleep that night.