DAILY MONSTER 177
Good morning. Everything’s going to be just fine. Now go upstairs and pack your bags. We’re going to start a new life… under the sea! At least, that’s the impression I got from the past two days of monster stories. Looks like you had a great time exploring the submarinocious monsters 175 and 176.
Monster 177 gets us out of the water again, but now that I look at it… Oh boy, I wonder and fear… Might there still be a connection between 177 and the last two monsters? Hmm. Maybe. Maybe not. It’s probably nothing. Well… take a look:
Is there quiet, methodical menace at work here? Body parts adapted to the task over millennia of selective adaptation? Or is it just extreme foreshortening that makes one worry about 177’s intentions? What animus drives this one? Instinct or job? Is something actually driving it? Or is 177 simply meditating on a cozy branch?
While we’re at it, is that a branch at all? Or maybe a separate organism? Or a group of organisms working together? All those little shapes? Merely bark? Hmm. I can’t wait to see what you make of it all. If you can eek out a few minutes, will you please…
Right now, I hope you’re having a great day,
and that you’re in the path of some springtime sunshine!
Needless to say 344 LOVES YOU
The one good thing about having your eyes at the end of a giant thin was, that peeking after the ladys was much easier to excuse.
One of the worst things was that you always had to close your eyes while drinking Champaigne from a flute- not very romantic…
Of course it’s a giant thin beak I’m talking about… wonder where the word’s gone.. nevermind 😉
Oh boy, I’ve got a funny feeling about it…
It is the first born child. He’s got hereditary this monstrous gene. Nobody knows how it works. Mummy is worried about it, because she never knows, what will be freaky and XXL next time.
Although the avis felicipedia cannot fly far, these wistful little birds (also called “the philosophers of the rain forest”) have become known for their ability to function as “live message machines.” Biologists were astounded to discover that their ability to retain and dispense long messages (and avian advice concerning the messages) was due to enormous brains located, not in their tiny skulls, but in their feet.
This here is the Wallop bird. The Wallop bird is blind.
Unfortunately this wallop bird (thinking it was a stick to build his nest with) has picked up a radio-active zombie arm.
Poor, poor wallop bird… He has no idea that the radiation is slowly shrinking his body. Pretty soon there will be nothing left but his talons.
But it’s all good, the zombie will make good use of them.
As Tweety’s illegitimate offspring, Twee~Dawg, realized, for the first time in her miserable life, salting worms around a certain time of the month really does make your feet swell.
Little 177 was quite the relaxed creature. Sure, he has exceptionally large feet, but that only meant that he couldn’t be blown away during a windy day like the other bird-monsters in his area.
….but of course, even while meditating in a storm, one can’t help but get a bad hair day, in spite of how Zen a creature is…
George was finally moving near the ocean. He used to live in the middle of Arizona. There was no natural water near. He had only heard tales from other birds of the delicious seafood that was found in the ocean. He was sick of eating Funkerpillars. Especially after he accidently devoured one with a tapeworm. After making his nest, George went off into the Puget Sound. He had practiced diving in swimming pools and this was the moment he’d been waiting for. He dived into the depths of the sound. Something flittered passed his eye. It was pink. It was some sort of very very small whale.
“Curioser and curioser” said George.
It was a small whale with a pink tail. George snatched it up with his giant feet. It was the most delicious thing he ever ate. Unfortunately most of these fish live in aquariums.
This monster lives in the big big big big castle that no one can reach. Its too high to get up there and there’s a dragon. The dragon doesn’t hurt him cuz he live in the castle. His name is Balookas. He is friend of Baloochas. Baloochas swims under the dragon. Actually Balookas is a girl. Also,she is Stefan G. Bucher’s friend. All the monsters are Stefan’s friend. She loves to sing “Give a little whistle,” by Jiminy Cricket. Balookas likes to eat. She always loves to eat macaroni and cheese. She gets it for free at the special grocery store where Baloochas goes and everybody goes. She also likes to say Zipadee do dah Zipadee ey. She loves Alice and Wonderland.
Clown-Talons, as her friends called her, never learned how to fly. She tried many a time when she was younger but the results were always the same, an embarrassed Clown-talons digging her head out of the ground with her huge feet. Naturally, it never took that long, a few scoops and she was free. What some may have deemed as a curse, she saw as her calling. She started up her own bird buffet. She used her huge talons to rip the earth apart, revealing the worms and grubs hiding below. She charged a mini-fee for all the lazy birds who didn’t want to dig up their own meals. With all of her earnings, she was able to afford the best damn branch in the entire forest. The branch belonged to Methuselah, a Bristlecone Pine tree 4,767 years in the making. The other birds would mock her about the horrible view she had of the earth (in comparison to their flying ways) but she never paid much attention to them. She was content with her ancient branch.
Mighty talon grip,
Face like ebony quill tip,
Oh so very hip.
The feeshstecks all swimming,
They though they were happy.
But atop the lake bed there perched a freckcatty.
It sat and it waited,
It was quite content.
For below was a feeshsteck that its beak would soon dent.
It dove and it swam,
To the depths with great ease.
And it snarled and it snapped that which tasted like peas.
Yummy in the freckcatty’s tummy!
“You see, Edward, the program is sound. I like to think there are no flaws. We have an outstanding rate of success. 97%.” Mr. Portis tossed another sausage-like item to the incredibly odd bird perched at the edge of his office. “So, really… we can argue about how you failed this step, but that really won’t get us anywhere.”
Edward shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He joined the program only 6 days ago and he really didn’t think it was that bad of a slip. It’s not like he bought the cigarettes; a friend just had a spare and what with the party and all… it was just one. Another of the bird’s treats flew through the air. Edward watched as the long neck craned sharply to snatch it as it got close. Its huge feet dwarfing the rest of its body. He gave a quick gulp as the bird swallowed the tasty morsel whole. “So… so, what happens now? It was just one! I’ve only just started the program!”
Mr. Portis gave a sympathetic look (albeit fake, to be sure), “Now, now, Edward. It’s not the end here, there’s still some recovery. However, to remain a credible program we have to make good on the contract you signed to join. If we let just one person slide – well, that would just be unacceptable to our reputation. 97% success rate you know.” He mentioned the percentage curtly while tossing yet another of the whitish “links” to the bird. Edward shuddered as it vanished quickly down the gullet of the feathered fiend.
“Besides, Claws here really needs more treats. And don’t worry, no one really misses the pinkie. You can say you lost it in… some freak predatory bird accident.”
This picture of Ponzki was taken by the wonderful Amboond, a very small monster photographer, which is why Ponzki’s feet seem so large. Ponzki and Amboond are good friends at school and are waiting on the branch for the bus to come get them.
The consistent visual shifting caused by the Distortion Finch has to do with a sort of subharmonic defense system used to offset the aim of its local natural predators: the Hawk-Eyed Eagle or the hypnotically lime green Telescope Cobra.
Both, when stalking the Distortion Finch will have such a difficult time that they either let the poor bird be, or result in attacking a larger creature to fall on the vague area where the Finch was in hopes to knock it into visual submission.
Upon birdwatching this bizarre bird, one notices specific sizes of the bird to ebb and flow like a funhouse mirror in a bar.
They are also known as ‘Bend-rummy birds’ to many verbal artists and poets.
Big big birdies and realy realy big i mean the idea that birds as big as a plane perhapes thats where the legendary THUNDERBIRD could have come from