Hey! My name is Johnny. I am six years. I am already big, because in a couple of months I will already go to school. My mother tells me all the time that if I take food with dirty hands, then a terrible monster will penetrate me along with germs. More precisely, a small testicle will penetrate into me, from which a baby monster will hatch. And my mother also says that if I will abuse fast food, i.e. if I will often eat bigmacks, hamburgers, fries and wash it all down with sweet soda or eat other wrong food, then very soon this monster will grow up. I didn't believe it. I thought my mother deceived me so that I didn't forget to wash my hands and eat oatmeal in the morning. But today it seemed to me that inside me someone was moving and mooing, like a cow – I was scared. I remembered that in the morning I asked my dad to buy me chips, and then greedily grabbed them with unwashed hands. Is it my mother fool me, saying that because of dirty hands, monsters can appear inside a person? What should I do? Maybe it seemed to me? Need to check. I went to the kitchen and drank a sweet soda – my mother says it is very harmful. After five minutes, someone in my stomach began to move harder. I ate a cloying sweet waffle. Someone inside of me coughed. Oh my God! Mom didn't lie to me.
– No Johnny, she didn't lie to you, – someone inside me said.
– Who are you? – I asked.
– Your best friend, Johnny, – he replied.
– Best friends don't end up in someone else’s belly, – I said.
– I am your closest friend, – he said.
"Since when?" – I thought and said:
– Maybe you will come out and we will play with you?
But my ploy failed.
– I feel good here too, – he replied.
– What is your name? – I asked. – It turns out somehow inconvenient – you know my name, but I don’t?
– Call me Bob, – he replied.
– Okay, – I said. – Who are you, after all?
– I'm a monster, Johnny! – Bob said. – Nice little monster. Maybe eat some more sweet waffles?
– No, – I replied. – They're too cloying to me. I'm sick of them.
– And I love them, – he said.
– I can't eat just what you like all the time, – I said. – Let me eat what we both like.
– Good, – Bob agreed reluctantly. – And what do you like?
– Now I don’t know what I like, – I replied. I don't want to have a second monster inside me.
