The monsters and I made a deal.
They get three bushels of corn a week.
And all the thieves they can eat.
Considering how much the thieves stole, three bushels a week is a bargain.
Plus, the monsters give me everything the thieves had.
Wallets, Boots. Cell phones. Nose rings.
That kind of stuff.
The clothes I sell to Goodwill.
Well, the clothes that don’t fit.
The stuff I sell at pawn shops.
Because I don’t have receipts.
“Didn’t we just eat you?” say the monsters.
“I’m just wearing their stuff,” I say.
And put down three bushels of corn.