He was just there.

Now, I suppose it would be the more accurate way of referring to the thing.

It was just there, kind of half sitting or sprawled all about.

It wasn't sitting upright as you or I might,

and it sure wasn't standing.

It looked as if it was lying on the sofa, except there wasn't a sofa.

I don't recall if I've ever seen a sofa big enough to have held that thing.

On occasion it would look over in my direction. Not at me because for the

moment there was no way for it to see me, at least at the time I hoped that to be

true. It would just look over in my direction and smile as much as was possible.

I'm not sure that it smiled often. It didn't look as if it had the capability, but it was sure giving it a good try.

One thing I am certain of is that it was proud of itself and what it had done.

That's why it kept looking over while trying to smile. I'll tell you what it reminded me of.

It reminded me of the way my father used to look when he would park his mowing machine in the garage after he had finished with the yard each week and then go walk around on his lawn.

My father was always so proud of the job that he had done each week after mowing the grass. He loved the way it

look when every blade of grass had been cut and all were the same height again.

How everything in that moment was just as it should be.

That look on my father's face each week when he had finished was unforgettable and unmistakable.

Well, that thing had the same prideful look on its mug each time it would

look over in my direction. I can only tell you of what I was seeing at that moment, and I couldn't see all that well, but I could see better than I wanted to.

In all honesty, I wish I had never seen any of it at all.

That thing was horrible.

...