I cannot overstate the excitement, the enthusiasm, the sheer passion Inky has in hunting the Bedmonster.  Daily she demands our assistance in finding the elusive beast.  It slithers under the blankets, crawls in the shadows, and darts just out of reach of her dagger-like claws.  When she hunts the Bedmonster, she becomes a Mayan jaguar god, a cunning and ruthless hunter that finds her prey even under the deep cover of blankets.  And when she finds it, the mouse-shaped furball with leather strings attached to it, she pounces and bites and claws and kicks and twists, until it moves no more.

But then, it moves again.  Tries to retreat under the blanket.  Dig deeper into the comforter.  And Inky is quick to dart after it.  Claw!  Bite!  Kick!  Clutch!  Her hunter’s eyes become wide as saucers.  She digs it out from under the blankets, until it struggles no more.

As far as we’re concerned, the only Bedmonster in the bed is black and furry and is named Inky.

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