My mother was standing in the kitchen, making a noise like a boiling kettle. “That cat is a menace!” she shrieked. “A FURRY MENACE!”
I screamed with joy.
“What did you say to him?” I ask.
Outside my window, the moon is a silver coin. And I think to myself: Some children have ordinary fathers. But me? I hit the jackpot. my dad is fantastic roald dahl pdf
I hear whispering. I hear a giggle—and it is not my father’s giggle. Then I hear a small, wet voice say, “Oh! Oh, I see! Well, why didn’t you say so?”
You see, I have a monster under my bed. His name is Grumblegut. He has three eyes, seventeen teeth, and a breath that smells like old cheese and thunder. Every night at 11:17, he tries to grab my ankles.
“That’s impossible,” I said.
But that was only the beginning.
“What does it do?” I asked him once.
Let me tell you about the first time I knew. It was a Tuesday. It was raining. And the cat had just eaten my mother’s best hat. My mother was standing in the kitchen, making
Grumblegut crawls out from under the bed. He is holding a tiny suitcase. He shakes my father’s hand, nods politely at me, and walks out the door.
PING!