The monster spoke to him: “You were doing so good with the gun and everything. I was thinking, ‘This old fuck really has some gumption.’ Then you go and start drooling and wheezing and ruining a perfectly good first impression. Where’s your self-respect?”

Effrom felt the warmth on his chest spreading to his limbs. His mind wanted to switch off, dive under the covers of unconsciousness and hide until daylight, but something kept bringing him back.

“Now, that’s better, isn’t it?” The monster removed his hand and backed to the corner of the bedroom, where he sat cross-legged looking like the Buddha of the lizards. His pointy ears scraped against the ceiling when he turned his head.

Effrom looked at the door. The monster was perhaps eight feet away from it. If he could get through it, maybe…How fast could a beast that size move in the confines of the house?

“Your jammies are all wet,” the monster said. “You should change or you’ll catch your death.”

Effrom was amazed at the reality shift his mind had made. He was accepting this! A monster was in his house, talking to him, and he was accepting it. No, it couldn’t be real.

“You’re not real,” he said.

“Neither are you,” the monster retorted.

“Yes I am,” Effrom said, feeling stupid.

“Prove it,” the monster said.

Effrom lay on the bed thinking. Much of his fear had been replaced by a macabre sense of wonder.

He said: “I don’t have to prove it. I’m right here.”

“Sure,” the monster said, incredulously.

Effrom climbed to his feet. Upon rising he realized that the creak in his knees and the stiffness he had carried in his back for forty years were gone. Despite the strangeness of this situation, he felt great.

“What did you do to me?”

“Me? I’m not real. How could I do anything?”

Effrom realized he had backed himself into a metaphysical corner, from which the only escape was acceptance.

“All right,” he said, “you’re real. What did you do to me?”

“I kept you from croaking.”

Effrom made a connection at last. He had seen a movie about this: aliens who come to Earth with the power to heal. Granted, this wasn’t the cute little leather-faced, lightbulb-headed alien from the movie, but it was no monster. It was a perfectly normal person from another planet.

“So,” Effrom said, “do you want to use the phone or something?”

“Why?”

“To phone home. Don’t you want to phone home?”

“Don’t play with me, old man. I want to know why Travis was here this afternoon.”

“I don’t know anyone named Travis.”

“He was here this afternoon. You spoke with him—I saw it.”

“You mean the insurance man? He wanted to talk to my wife.”