“Now Timmy, you have to start cleaning up your room! If you don’t, the Hobgoblin will come into your room and steal your toys!”

Timmy rolls his eyes. He’s sitting on his bed, playing with toy cars, ignoring the sea of clothing and toys scattered all over his floor. His mother’s face is red; this is clearly not the first time she’s walked into his room to find the place a mess. At 10 years old, he should be able to clean up at least most of this stuff without an issue. And yet, that never seems to be the case.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young man! Clean. Up. Your. Room!”

But he doesn’t. He continues to play with his cars. A few hours later, his mother makes him go to bed early, without supper, as punishment for his dirty room. As she turns out the lights, she tells him, “The Hobgoblin knows you’ve been bad. Watch out; he might come and take your toys tonight!” Timmy rolls his eyes, and drifts off to sleep. He’s surprisingly tired for only playing with his cars all day.

When he wakes up the next morning, his room is spotless. Somehow all of his laundry has been done and put away; the floors have been swept; his toys are stored. Even the sheets he’s been sleeping on are clean, and smell like a comforting blend of vanilla and ginger. How did this happen?! He runs around the room, checking out all the freshly cleaned corners. Then he realizes: his cars are gone. The Hobgoblin!! Click here to read the rest of the story.