Good morning. How are you? A special welcome to everybody coming to visit via the Very Short List. I’ve subscribed to VSL for the past year and found some real gems among their daily recommendations — cool books, videos, music, and lots of great information graphics — so I’m very excited (and grateful) that they decided to make the monster book their discovery of the day today. (Hell, yesterday’s pick was the new book by Nicholson Baker, one of my favorite authors since The Fermata and The Mezzanine. That’s good company!)

If this is, in fact, your first visit to the site, you picked a good day. There are some excellent new creature stories waiting for you right here:


And of course, I’ve got a new monster for you, too:

I can’t help but think that 161 is a bit… unhinged. That’s not a sane look, is it? Is this a creature of malfeasance? Or is there a benign explanation for the way he’s coming off right here? I know I can count on you to uncover that which does not immediately meet the eye. If you can spare the time, I hope that you’ll…


I hope that the week has been treating you well so far
and that you’ll be back again tomorrow for Monster 162.
It’s not that I’m needy, it’s just that 344 LOVES YOU


  • 28 February 2008 6:25 am

    It’s the guy with three tongues arriving to find his brother, the guy with five ties. From the look in his eye, once he hooks up with Brother Five Ties they will be up to no good.

  • jak
    28 February 2008 6:25 am

    Sir Roderick Munche the Third, or Roddy, as his friends called him, was quite the monster-about-town; suave, sophisticated and quite the ladies man, too. All was right in Roddy’s world – until his secret was splashed across the front page of every yellow rag in the land (and several overseas, too.) MUNCHE BOWLS!
    From the moment he’d slid his three digits into a bowling ball, he was hooked! The wonderment of something that fit his hand so perfectly! And, the thrill of the approach, the excitement of the release, the anxiety as the ball sped toward the ten pins – then, crack & clatter! The strike! Roddy was a natural, sneaking out almost every night to indulge himself in a lane or two.
    However, the upper-crust crowd he ran with had no truck with bowlers. Roddy became the instant butt of jokes, his former friends shunned him, and, he was excommunicated from “the club.” He had no choice but to flee to the United States.
    Taking up residence in St. Louis, Missouri, just a few blocks from the International Bowling Museum and Hall of Fame, he eventually gained employment there as a night watchman.
    Roddy made pathetic attempts to regain his old savoir faire and to make new friends. But, the bowlers in St. Louis were suspicious (and not just a little afraid) of the strange monster in striped pants and too-tight turtlenecks who showed up to bowl, alone, on the one open lane during afternoon league play.
    Devoid of company, comforted only by his daily game of ten-pins, Roddy still dreams – often – of his eventual inclusion into the hallowed halls he patrols from 10 p.m. until dawn.

  • VB
    28 February 2008 6:44 am

    Three was George’s lucky number.

  • Henry
    28 February 2008 6:58 am

    Grinza wanted to keep her eye on him. He disappeared. She never saw her eye again.

  • sue bebié
    28 February 2008 7:08 am

    the poor three-in-one monster had to clean all the dusty old gumtree leafs. and the old singing crazy bird didn’t let it do its daily work. this evil gumtree bird pecked in each of the three tongues, whenever they dusted a new leaf. don’t wonder why the sad creature is so unhinged and and why it looks so sick.

  • GristleBean
    28 February 2008 9:46 am

    Beverly Beefeezle cranked open the door to the Gastropod Buffet, letting in her three little ones. Earl Junior, Zazzop, and Howard Phillips all raced in, leaping for plates.
    She paid the wrangler-chef and moved towards the table in the pokey way that parent’s do and kids don’t. The server took her order for three glasses of Preeg for her boys, and some triple-fulcrum coffee for her. She then met her boys in line, who were by this time shrieking and seemingly playing either tag or croquet with other disapproving buffet-goers.
    The meal wasn’t bad. The boys had tackled the dessert-line first and had ruined their meals on Gooshed And Split Banana Slugs. The Preeg-juice had been artfully spilt all over the table, executing consistent drips from both sides.
    Her boy Earl Junior excused himself from the table for another plate. She scowled to herself.
    He came back with an empty plate, and something that stopped the whole family in its destructive tracks, save for Zazzop who knocked his plate on the floor in disgust.
    ‘Why’, said Beverly, ‘are you chewing with your mouth closed AND not talking with that mouthful of food?’
    ‘I’g sorgy’, Earl Junior gurgled and opened his mouth to show off his pick of the Deshucked Snail-Pickles.
    ‘You’re no son of mine. I hate you.’, screamed Beverly Beefeezle to her son, and thought about how much he was like his father. She sighed deeply with silent contempted contentedness.

  • Graymalkin
    28 February 2008 10:08 am

    The harder Tripple-LeXxX tried to swallow a red sweet pepper, a sausage and a carrot at the same time the more it made him realise how pointless the attempt actually was.

  • kate
    28 February 2008 11:32 am

    all three of me is just so hungry

  • heathers
    28 February 2008 11:34 am

    “Ludwig! How often have I told you NOT to jam three Slime-o-pops in your mouth all at once? Look at you! don’t care if they are stuck, you can just stay like that until your father comes home and we’ll see what he has to say!
    Ludwig! Are you listening to me?

  • 28 February 2008 12:09 pm

    God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit morph physically into one after watching episodes of the Power Rangers.

  • Ulysses
    28 February 2008 12:19 pm

    Ricardo was only a few short bleems away from completing the first molting of his tongue bands – and what his father and brother had told him was right – it was painful, surreal and ultimately satisfying. The removal of the ceremonial collar would allow his bottom toothpan to retract, and the top of his jaw would slam down and severe the adolescent husk of his tongue. The resulting appendage ¬– muscular, elastic, and studded with millions of taste buds – would then allow him to probe for the tasty Horney Gobberfords that resided in the very tops of the basalt cliffs. Once he had eaten twice his body weight in Gobberfords, his third arm would sprout, matching the three legs, and announcing to the brood that he was ready to mate.

  • Joshra
    28 February 2008 12:42 pm

    Ralph your normal everyday business monster. Who loves his pens and calculators, but after work he likes to go out on the town with his girlfriend. Sometimes he takes her to very nice restaurants, i mean some times it’s poor Ralph’s who’ll days pay to get one meal. But he loves his girlfriend so he takes her out even though she doesn’t really care for expensive food but Ralph insist that she go to the new sea food place in the Scare District (a very classy side of town) that he’s read about in the local paper.
    While there Ralph’s girlfriend ponders the menu a moment and decides on a light salad with non fat dressing. Ralph chuckles to himself (a life long lover of meat and fat) he orders the most delicious looking ribs from the finest Unicorns. After their first course the waiter comes back and they both order the main meals, Ralph’s girlfriend orders (again thinking conservative and dainty) a stew. Ralph decides to order a new thing on the menu this week the Rainbow Squid.
    There orders come and Ralph gazes at the squid, its vibrant colors illuminate in his eye. He grabs the squid with one hand and throws it into his mouth, he swallows the squid but hen it just hits the back of is throat he feels something odd. The squid is still alive! Ralph jumps up still in his business clothes and coughs the testicles of the squid still hanging out side of his mouth squirming. The girlfriend jumps up and runs to give him the Heimlich maneuver, which amkes Ralph shoot the squid flying into the couple over from them.
    While he’s catching his breathe his girlfriend whispers in his ear. “Maybe you should be the one getting the light meals” as smirks and kisses him his black cheek.

  • 28 February 2008 3:39 pm

    Tragedy struck Monster Land today when Glorblplone’s mother accidentally dressed him in a Constrictive Clothing Doppelganger Beast. While this innocent looking predator has been known to pose primarily as twill pants, there have been cases – as seen here – whereby the appearance of a cozy turtleneck has accomplished the same nefarious end. According to sources nearby when the constriction began, Glorblplone’s last words were, “Gkkaak!” However, the poor victim’s mother, Plarblplave, is not at all troubled. She is, after all, a monster.

  • 28 February 2008 3:46 pm

    The first tongue of 161
    Looks just like a hamburger bun.
    Attached to the skull, it
    Distracts from the mullet
    And makes sure his steak is well-done.
    The second’s for licking Blue Penny
    And sometimes an Inverted Jenny.
    (We refer to philatelists’
    Dampening catalysts
    But grant that the meanings are many.)
    Tongue number three turns vermillion,
    Jutting out like a thirsty vaudevillian.
    And when tailoring’s needed
    It pants twice unimpeded
    Making one “pair of pants” à Triskelion.

  • 28 February 2008 7:22 pm

    He lives with his mom, but hates it. He is loathe to tell his friends that a thirty-something with a well paying job managing the local Monster Queen can’t seem to get away from momma. It’s a lot cheaper this way, but man she cramps his style.

  • 28 February 2008 9:27 pm

    Oh man! He ate all of the bratwurst!

  • Cameron's Dad
    28 February 2008 11:30 pm

    This is SOOOOO Cameron! Of course you don’t know Cameron. He’s my son, nine years old, or three, … or three thousand — it’s hard to tell. He has autism. Although a bit less mature, perhaps less experienced, and certainly more angular than this, our Cameron’s art is no less arresting. I am thinking, frankly, that we might better grasp the true genius behind Cam’s art with some of this time-lapsed photography….
    I am going to show him this tomorrow. If you don’t believe in precognition, in the ability to see and hear things before they happen, believe now. Tomorrow, about 6:30 pst, the world will actually weigh less, be a little bit lighter and bubblier for the giggles — the unrestrained, uninhibited, untainted, throw-your-head-back-and-hope-you-don’t-pee giggles, all bright, all infectious giggles that blow weight from your shoulders and lift your feet off the ground and carry you along like your cares were so much chaff, unchained to the central light and laughter of being… For all that’s hard, there is no one more fortunate in the universe than I, for I have been given this unbelievable gift — of seeing through Cameron’s eyes…..

  • Drew
    11 March 2008 7:52 pm

    im pretty sure that if you look close that he just got stabbed in the back. Hes gasping in pain. The better question is who stabbed him in the back?

  • thecolclough
    1 April 2008 1:22 pm

    my initial thoughts: it must have taken this guy a while learning to talk – it’s hard enough for people who only have one tongue to get to grips with, let alone 3!
    my second thoughts: then again… maybe he’s trilingual? perhaps he can speak a different language with each tongue, so he can say something at an international conference, and translate for himself simultaneously? that might be useful…
    example (DM161 introduces himself to a meeting in English, bad German, and Standard Monster):
    “Good day, delegates, I’m Daily Monster 161…”
    “Guten Tag, Delegierte, ich bin Täglich Monster 161…”
    “Eekyehe&, umplix-?sergift’ke, ~woppa di kodus {161 ! Xodriat Pokgamda}…”
    sorry about the lousy german translation, stefan, i’m actually hopeless with foreign languages, and i used Google Translator!
    – colclough

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