DAILY MONSTER 80
Good morning. Welcome to a new week of monsters. I hope you’ll have fun on the site. Please take a few moments and enjoy the brilliant stories the monster stalwarts have cooked up over the weekend!
Monster 79 has surprises up its sleeve. Or up its pants, as the case may be. And I mean that in an entirely G-rated hydraulic sense. But he’s clearly annoyed, this one. Not exactly furious, certainly, but not a happy camper, either. What’s his beef, do you think? And what’s he mumbling there at the end? Who is he talking to? Is he telling the truth? Is he dissembling? Opining? Or is he a gruff poet of science? A Byron of the Bunsen Burner? A Petri Dish Pushkin? And if so, how does his particular ability to go vertical affect his writing? If, indeed, it does? I know you’ve got stories that want to find their way out of your head and onto this page. Today’s the day:
I’m looking forward to another week with you as we get ever closer to Monster 100.
(If you’ve not posted a story on the site, I hope you’ll seize your chance while you can!)
If words aren’t your thing, perhaps the monsters will move you to make some music. Check out this well-lubricated loop from long-time monster associate Richard Murrey of the Chevy Ford Band. It’s called Mu-Bablek.
Maybe you’ll be inspired by this link from German monster fan Jens Wunderling. (I know I was.) There are all kinds of ways to get in on the monster action and as we build towards the inky crescendo of this little experiment. (I’m still waiting for footage of an interpretative monster dance, for example.) I can’t wait to see what you come up with.
In other news, I’m planning on printing up a Daily Monster T-shirt in the next few weeks and I’d love to get your opinion: Out of the 80 monsters so far… which one would you most like to wear? Please let me know your favorite!
For now, I hope you’ll have a great week! Make it a good one,
and if you have Chinese food today, don’t be surprised
if the fortune cookie tells you that 344 LOVES YOU!
He yells at me, he does. Day in and day out, that endless, harried screaming that shoots right from one side of my brain to the other. I can hear him now: “It’s such a smallll brain, Iago, anyway, it oughtn’t hurt too much, for you to listen just once to my wisdom.” Sick of it, I am. Sick, sick, sick. But today will be the day. The good doctor wondered just last week where the genes from the daddy long-legs he ordered went…Dumb Iago played the part, didn’t I, didn’t I? “I don’t know, master, I don’t know where they went…”
But we knows, don’t we? We knows that with just a little nerve-blocker and a pretty shiny syringe, we can change our stars.
And today, I’ll finally be taller than the good doctor. Maybe then he won’t yell so much.
Hungover 2nd story man, 3-legged peeping Tom on a bad hair day?
No…..it’s the robo-date for super models, adjustable to any height.
(even in the short time i’ve been here, i could never choose only ONE monster for a tee – alTHO, that little birdy on the copper wire legs the other day was very cute. how bout calendars/notepads with a diff one every day?)
Oh yes. Here we see a fine specimen, the plumed frumpalump. A thousand years ago, the frumpalump could get by by lazing around all day and being worshiped as a godly idol.
Unfortunately for the frumpalump, the age of technology has come, no longer can he get by by worship. A former idol has got to eat, after all. So, the frumpalump did what all good individuals do when the age of technology came and they found they couldn’t keep up:
He became middle management. Today he shuffles through a city of cubicles, randomly making statements such as “We’re missing all of the zeroes from our programs. we’ve only got ones! someone is stealing from the company.” and “Hey you guys. Stop your internets boondoggling.” Often times he complains about the quality of the coffee, and how nobody cleans the break room.
More often than not he’s a harmless fellow. However, when he gets angry, he shoots up, his tiny little legs sprouting up like haywire mattress springs. His face turns seven shades of red, and his plumage waves back and forth like a palm tree in a hurricane. It’s rumored that he shouts and cusses terribly, but nobody has ever actually been able to make anything out when he gets like that. Normally it just sounds like a giraffe gargling.
It’s -26 degrees Fahrenheit out at the moment. All exposed skin sting terribly when you’re out for more than a minute. At work, we took a cup of boiling water, and threw it up into the air, and it evaporated instantly. There was nothin left to hit the ground!
That link to the Jens Wunderling shadow monsters was great.
My favorite monsters so far have to be 15 and 56, in that order.
Grandpa Theobold never could get used to his prAna Protractor slacks. Growing ever taller, Pappy Theo grumbled obscenities under his foul 84-year-old breath. “*@%&in’ pants!” He’d cry from atop the ceiling. We gave ’em to the old bugger so he could reach things on tall shelves, but he claims it was easier before the pants. $344 down the drain I guess.
“I’ve got three reasons not to like you, Leon,” Mr. Fim growled at Leon. His hair bristling with contempt for the rather new worker to the group. Leon simply stared at Mr. Fim with a grim look on his face.
“First of all, you’re hair is all over the place. It’s disgusting. People are complaining.” Leon gave a quizzical look at Mr. Fim. “Your clothes are also rather disgraceful. Multi-colored pants have a place in society.” Again, Leon could only return what some might refer to as ‘the confused German shepherd look’. “Lastly, we’re concerned about your height.” This was too much for Leon. What the hell did that mean? So what? What difference did his height make in his line of work? His rage was only quailed by his clenched teeth.
Here Leon was, listening to this blowhard go on about his hair, his clothes and his stature. Yet, before him stood a tiki-faced man with what could only be described as ridiculous bird feathers jutting out of his head. Pants that were 2 or three colors AND striped. Worse yet, Mr. Fim was shorter than him. Leon opened his mouth to let loose a volley of insults when all of a sudden, Mr. Fim rose over three times his own height. His teeth gnashed back and forth in his mouth and his eyes squinted down on Leon.
Leon apologized, made the requisite statement of “I’ll work on it.,” and trudged back to his office in his finely pressed khakis. What could he do? He couldn’t quit. He was the minority in this alien world of squatty, tiki-figurines that could apparently elevate themselves much taller than a 6’2″ human.
Mu-Bablek!! Mu-Bablek!! Ahhh I am experiencing ear orgasms, specially all those little suction pitter-patter sounds, wheeooo, thank you!
The Shadow Monsters are marvelous. Wow. That was cool. I wanna play.
For t-shirts (yay!! T-shirts!!), I vote for:
Number 30, made on December 18 (oh! that eye! those appendages!)
Number 18, made before December 18 – cuts a very nice figure and the mouth fringe is so so soooo!
(18s are not exactly my lucky number, but a number that really does pop up a lot in my life)
Now seems a relevant time to add what I’d thought a long time ago when I was viewing older monsters…I liked seeing that the Sharpie you used cost $1.69. I still don’t know why, except that I think humans are just curious folk who like to know what others get up to. And, it’s been really fun to watch the evolution of the monsters and the layouts and even the way you film them.
As for today’s monster, he’s saying:
“Sure, I can win the three-legged race hands down, everyone wants me on their team; and my pinstripes are the dapperest and everyone wants me for their fashion consultant….all that matters diddly-squat when it comes to not joining the annual scaring the kids from under the bed party. ‘Come to the scare-a-thon next thursday, Clancey, it’ll be a scream!’ ‘Clancey, don’t be a wuss, we’re helping the children build character!’ my colleagues exhort. Ahhh…no. Nope. Not my thing. ‘Aw, Clancey..be there or BE SQUARE!!!’ ”
Er steht vor dem Spiegel und schaut mit Verachtung sein Gegenüber an; wütend über sich und über die Organisatoren der Dichterlesung. Er, der Anwärter für den diesjahrigen Literaturpreis, soll mit so einem lächerlichen Federbusch auf dem Kopf erscheinen. Und das alles nur, weil er aus seinem neusten Roman über die wilden 20iger Jahre vorlesen wird. Eigentlich hätte er sogar noch mit einer Zigarette mit stilechter Verlängerung erscheinen sollen. Das war ihm dann aber des Guten zuviel. Und überhaupt, er, ein so männlicher Mann, mit so viel weiblichen Accessoires…
its amazing how you do the art like that today i did the samw in art class we had fun
Oh cool! I'm glad you had fun making your own monsters, diamonique! And
thank you for the compliment!