Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley door pickup 10am - 7pm 3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611

  • Open Daily: 10am - 10pm
    Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm

    3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
    612-822-4611

Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
Beneath the Bed and Beyond

Beneath the Bed and Beyond

Gehrig, Aaron

Paperback

HumorGeneral Drama

ISBN13: 9798263139254
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: Sep 1 2025
Pages: 352
Weight: 1.35
Height: 0.73 Width: 7.00 Depth: 10.00
Language: English
So... picture this.I'm Darren, just your average divorced dad, scraping by in a suburban shoebox of a house that smells like burnt coffee and regret. My life's a bit like a sitcom that got canceled mid-season. Messy, a little sad, but still trying for laughs. My daughter, Izzy, she's the star of the show, a pint-sized tornado of sparkles and imagination who makes everything brighter. When she's around, I'm Dad of the Year, whipping up star-shaped sandwiches and spinning tales about dragons with bad aim. But when she's off with her mom, Rachel, and her new beau, Greg the Giant-Headed Brain Surgeon, the house gets quiet. Too quiet. Like, I'm talking to the Roomba just to hear a voice quiet.That's when things got weird. I'm talking capital-W Weird, like did I accidentally eat expired yogurt and hallucinate a furry apocalypse weird. One night, I'm moping in the kitchen, drowning my sorrows in flat beer, when something moves under Izzy's bed. Not a sock, not a dust bunny, but a full-on, seven-foot-tall, orange-furred, purple-horned, whiskey-drinking monstrosity who calls himself Mr. Bubbles. Yeah, you heard that right. Mr. Bubbles. Sounds like a clown for hire, looks like a Cheetos puff mated with a Care Bear, and talks like he's auditioning for a buddy comedy with me as the straight man.At first, I'm thinking I've finally cracked, that my brain's checked out and left me with a hallucination who farts nerve gas and photobombs selfies. But Mr. Bubbles isn't just some figment, he's real, or real enough, and he's got a mission. To yank me out of my post-divorce funk with a mix of bad jokes, backyard shenanigans, and therapy sessions that smell suspiciously of Jack and Coke. What follows is a rollercoaster of ridiculousness, think treasure hunts with clues scrawled in monster claw, late-night talks about feelings (ugh), and a kid named Oliver with his own googly-eyed imaginary sidekick. It's nuts, it's messy, and it's the most fun I've had since I accidentally set my eyebrows on fire trying to grill. This is the story of how I learned to laugh again, to keep the door cracked for imagination, and to realize that friends, even the ones who look like they escaped a Dr. Seuss fever dream, are always closer than you think, ready to save you with a burp and a grin.

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