DAILY MONSTER 75
Good morning. I’m coming to you once again via the 0.9Kbps/sec Magic of Dial-Up. Yesterday was kind of a lost day here at Daily Monster Headquarters. After 24 hours my DSL is still out to lunch and Earthlink has passed the problem on to the people in charge of the actual copper wires—always a good sign. This came after a little experiment: How long can you listen to the non-rock version of Pachelbel’s Canon in D on a cell phone before your head explodes? Turns out that it takes just shy of two hours.
All bitching and moaning aside, it’s another stripped down Daily Monster post and I hope that you’ll forgive me for it—especially on our anniversary! The 75th Monster.
Seeing all your cool stories come in on Monster 74 brought some real delight into an otherwise frustrating day. Thank you for that. (And if you’re a new visitor—please—you must check out the stories everybody posted for 74. There’s real genius going on here.)
Monster 75 isn’t letting the tech support issues spoil a good groove. Much like Disco Stu, Number 75 doesn’t advertise, but that’s a quietly funky bird. What do you think made it so? And what’s the soundtrack? (Laura, are you still out there? Perhaps this is your time to resume your DJing duties!) Is this another mating display? A way of communicating? Or is 75 just enjoying the moment? I hope you’ll let me know the story!
For now, I hope you’ll have a day of excellent connectivity. May your upstream be strong and your downstream as smooth and delicious as chocolate syrup. Neither sleet nor snow nor twisted wires can change the fact that 344 LOVES YOU
The King W(f)isher…
Lurking from above the KingW(f)isher stalks its pray. Waits and without a sound it folds its tiny wings and dives. Stops just a few inches above the water…and then starts to dance, spinning faster and faster until the small preys in the pond is mixed to a delicous soup. Then its starts to feed, slurpning and scops up the mixed pieces… a true miracle of nature/ JF
*Happy Dance, Happy Dance* Just wait til I get back to the nest! I’ve found acres and acres of copper wires! They told me I’d never find them in California, but I didn’t listen. Now we’ll have enough for leg extensions and can breed again. Maybe I’ll ask for Princess Coppertina as my reward.
*Happy Dance, Happy Dance*
Previous to an evening with Edgar Allan, Poe had been an inconspicuous chilli pepper. Now he finds he has an inescapable urge to locate Jessica Tandy and peck her eyes out. Just the thought makes Poe dance.
“Can you come here a minute?”
“Sure, just give me a sec.”
“K.” And with that he stood still. Feet shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent. Taking little breaths through pursed lips. I wanted to move, but he wasn’t quite sure what would happen. He was sure he had the upper hand, heck – he was holding a butter knife – at least he was armed. But what if it had poison?
“What’s up hon?”
He relaxed his stance, spun on his heal and two two quick steps to stand face to face with her, the breakfast bar separating her. She cocked her head slightly at his step, glanced at his half full cereal bowl with unpoured milk sitting next to it. She gave him that stuttered 45 degree head nod and quizzed with her eyes, a bit confused.
“Where have you been grocery shopping?” he asked.
She rocked back on to her right foot, took a confused stance with arms folded across her chest. “The new Whole Foods that just opened up. But they had your cereal there.”
“No” pause “It’s not that.” pause “I went to get a banana. And I found that.” His arm raised straight out with index finger pointed deliberately, as if he was trying to explain that he saw a ghost ‘over there.’
“They are Venetian Plantains. Supposed to very fresh and juicy. Figured I would try them.”
“But hon. They… are nothing like bananas.”
“Sure they are. Just a little different. You’ll like them – I had one in the car.” She casually sidled over to the fruit bowl, and reached out to grab one.
She snapped a startled turn “Hon, what’s going on?”
“It has legs.”
“Really?” And she looked down, sure enough one had legs and a bit of a hairy body. “Oh cool, the produce manager said this could happen. You can still eat it.”
“Yeah, he said they were extra tasty this way.” With that she casually grabbed it by the body and took two steps over to the cutlery drawer and grabbed a knife of her own. “Not all of them mature to this point. You are lucky.”
His mouth was open in disbelief.
In two steps she was at the sink. She snapped the soft beaked head off. Popped the knife into the eyeball-looking slot, and peeled the skin off into the sink. She stepped back over and sliced up the Venetian Plantain into his cereal. Grabbed the milk, poured and went back to the sink to rinse her hands of the plantain juice.
“hon. I. I’m… what did you just do?”
“No big deal, it’s just a plantain, it’s not alive. It’s good – try it. I gotta get ready for work.” With that she walked back to the bedroom.
He shuffled a little toward the bowl. Poked his head cautiously over it. Sniffed. Put down the butter knife and grabbed a spoon. Then he paused for a moment. Was he really going to eat it?
Doctor Postulatory, pre-eminent ornithologist of the Upper Realm, had been searching for the elusive Pelican-Beaked Frazzletop for years now. He knew only that the bird was a critical factor in the fertilization of the endangered Frondy-Frillled Bulbous Spider Lily.
Now, staring at the curious specimen bobbing happily if somewhat confusedly along the cobblestone road of Picadilly Circus, he suddenly realized that perhaps he just hadn’t dug far enough in his studies of the plant…
Once upon a time there was a monster in the woods. This monster went to the fire-breathing dinosaur dragon land and he had a race with them. He won and did a silly monster dance.
Swaying too and fro, the Colossal-beak Farron sleeps high above the ground. This majestic fowl has such great balance; even the highest winds can’t knock it off of its perch. Circular patterns in the shape of eyes are positioned atop its head to ward off predators while slumbering. This feature is useful to the Farron as it sleeps for up to 22 hours straight. They only eat once a day, usually between 3:30 or 3:44 in the morning, but even a small amount of sustenance will provide them with enough energy to survive in the wild.
Everyone knows that before swivel-hipped hula girls on dashboards of Monte Carlos, there were swivel-legged Frizzles riding the rough-hewn handlebars of vintage Schwinn’s.
Well, if you didn’t know that before, you do now! And don’t you wish you had one?
whoopah! again! again! So glad you are as big of fan of monsters as we are, Stefan…hope you’re up and running with the big dogs again soon.
great stories everyone!!
ps – every night I mean to mention that I like the new ‘what’s the story’ tag-end (I don’t think I commented on that already but if I did, excuse me for repeating repeating myself)!
Three birds, of considerably large stature, sat perched on their branches waiting patiently for the young man to make his decision. Each had their own pros and cons to being picked. Two, of course, would not be chosen by the individual, but perhaps that was best. What was there to expect, really? It was a good chance they would be picked next time. No doubt, each thought it best to be picked sooner than later. Wouldn’t it just be delaying the inevitable. They all realized this fact and decided to hasten the process and dance for him to be the chosen one. The one with the brightly colored legs and enticing sway seemed to be catching the most attention. Though his beak was longer than the others’, he was clearly being examined the most.
The decision was made. The beak could be easily disregarded – it was never a factor. His long legs were quite admirable (as some, oddly, preferred that sort of thing) and his overall physique seemed to be just what the doctor ordered.
And that’s not being figurative. The doctor did, in fact, request the plumpest Woolaki bird available. Sure – a hefty fee for such a sizable order, but nothing the popular Dr. Vonay couldn’t afford. The exquisite flavor these birds possess when accompanied by a carefully prepared bernaise was the talk of the town and Chez Pouchonne was no stranger to serving luxury on fine china. The legs? An acquired taste, but a very ostentatious appetizer.
The birds certainly give new meaning to dancing for one’s supper.
mogabog – welcome back!
I didn’t have time to read all these stories before posting my own – so imagine my delight when I read yours as a culinary epitaph as well! YAY! How bizarre we both thought of eating this thing upon seeing it.
Poor poor 75. He needs to pee, but here we all are staring at him.
Out of consideration, I think we should turn and give him a bit of privacy.
This is the off-spring of two evil harpies. Only, instead of being totally evil, this one just likes to dance a lot and peck-out eyes. Also, it is best friends with Toucan Sam and because of this, he gets all of the Frootloops that he likes! But, the rainbow colors decay its mind, so now it can’t peck-out eyes any more. :[
Heute ist nicht sein Tag, denn er ist voll auf Gemüseblues.
BLUES STAY AWAY FROM ME
Blues bleib weg von mir
Blues warum lässt du mich nicht sein
Warum nur stellst du mir ein Bein
Tränen weil die Gurke so klein
Tränen weil ich bin so allein
Blues bleib weg von mir
Eierfrucht die hängt als Kopf
Ach bin ich ein armer Tropf
Blues bleib weg von mir
(Gegen den Blues hilft Wurzelbier)