DAILY MONSTER 143
Good morning. How are you? I hope you’re having a good weekend. I sure am, just from reading your stories for yesterday’s monster. Seems like we’re all getting warmed up on the daily rhythm again. You people… you crack me up! Thank you all so much! What excellent stories for Monster 142! If you haven’t read them yet, please do!
Now it’s time to say Hello to Monster 143.
Hello, or possibly WHOA THERE!
Well, see for yourself:
Now, what’s going on here? How did 143 find itself on this ledge? On the lip of… what exactly? Is it scared? Or excited? Or simply crazed? Many of the monsters are obviously posing for their moment of fame, but we seem to have caught 143 in a decisive moment. What led to this moment? What happens next? Needless to say, I’m counting on you to tell me. Will you please take a minute and…
I don’t like to play favorites, but I really like 143.
I can’t wait to read what you come up with!
Right now it’s getting time to turn in for the night.
I hope you’ll have a luminous Sunday.
Let the sun shine in! And enjoy yourself
knowing that 344 LOVES YOU
Just a few seconds ago, Stumpy stood on the ledge about to try out flying. He started reaching up…..up….almost ready to go, but not quite. “Shall I try it? I don’t think so. Oh don’t be a wuss. But what if I fall and not fly? Nothing’s certain in monster life. I just can’t do it. Yes you can. No I can’t. Yes……”
Meanwhile, no one will be calling him Stumpy anymore. More likely they’ll be calling him Stretch.
Nervously, Bob stood in front of the water basin. His friends had organized one for him deliberately. All of his legs seemed to turn into jelly when he stared into the deep blue liquid. Bob began to sweat and his black skin soon shone as if he just climbed out of a shower.
But then, he clenched his teeth and exhaled deeply. He was a tentaculated whale, for Fish’s sake, and as such should not be afraid of water! Slowly, he wobbled forward to the brim of the basin. Bob had decided. He would defeat his fear of water with this one jump. It was now or never.
Marvin could not believe that creatures lived underneath all that blue sky. The Martian Aerospace Society finally finished building their priceless up close and personal exhibit of Earth, but it failed to ‘wow’ him. What’s the point of aerobic respiration if all the clouds might get stuck up their noses? Boy, was Marvin glad he didn’t have a nose! Skipping along the asteroid belt exhibit was much more fun.
After their lunch, the grunko-mites paid their standard admission of one scalp flake apiece and climbed the rugged tail of the fairground’s main event, the Teetering Vovnil. After everyone had a hold of a feathery split end, the tail curled up, and a faint whistle was blown, no doubt again from the conductor. The Vovnil blinked, and stood up. This was his shining moment. The crowd let out a ‘Whoooa!’, and the ride started.
The Vovnil bobbed over the side of Obstokurk’s Translucent Grocery over and over, grinning. Faint screams and laughter of the minute thrill-seekers filled its ears. It was a decent paying job with the mutual benefits of microscopic cleansing every Tuesday from gleeful microbes that knew various catchy ditties, and would belt them out to pass the time between shifts. He got flossed by an invisible crew, fed multiple times a day, and was the most agreeable thrill-ride Efthilm’s Roobee-Goo Joypark had to offer.
Until the Pneumatic-Trout showed up.
Filbert walked slowly down the side of the building, praying that his stick-um (a thick glue-like substance that you can spray on the bottom of your feet, and lets you walk on walls, etc.) would hold him for the last 20 feet to the ground.
He looks around, and down at the still far away ground, and feels his feet give just a little…
Oh god, why did he let his friends talk him into this?
He could be at home in front of his 80 inch tv watching people do stupid things and risking ‘theeeeeeiiiiiiir’ lives, but no. Here he was risking his…. again.
All because George, Kramer and Jerry dared him to.
Pleas for help petitioned, a police pursuit proceeded. With forward progress paused, Patrick piled out of his Plymouth and perched atop a preposterously tall pillar on the perimeter of town. Patrick paused, pondering one peculiar thought…I’m in this pesky predicament for pinching a pen at the Post Office? Phooey.
it is standing upon a roof in front of window made by glass. it is the big bosses private roof watcher, sometimes also the glass sweeper. everytime, exept today, it could all identify, that was reflected on the glass. it is scared about that what it sees at this moment. a new unclear little blot, it never saw before. what will it be, when it grows up? maybe dangerous slimy…
Sam stuns steadily with semantical somersaults of skill.
Great stuff. I’ve linked to you on my site, next to some fellow travelers. Look at the blogs page.
my blog: http://floatinglightbulb.blogspot.com/
Heinrich der Himmlische steht über Allem wie man sieht. Er neigt sich über das schwülstig poetisch ausgedrückte Himmelszelt und meditiert über den als Schemen zu erkennenden Wolken, sinniert gedankenverloren über neue Weltbilder…