DAILY MONSTER 31
Good morning! and a special Welcome to you if you’ve come here from Drawn! Sadly, their top story is now the death of Joe Barbera (of Hanna-Barbera). A sad day… But Mr. Barbera got to do what he loved and he lived to 95 doing it. Not too shabby.
A few days ago, Ahmet Ertegun passed at 83. He was, as you may know, the founder of Atlantic Records. After leading a truly remarkable life he slipped backstage during the Rolling Stone’s concert in honor of Bill Clinton’s 60th birthday and fell into a coma on October 29th. Now… if you have to die, this is a pretty decent way to go. May we all be so lucky. Both men stand as an example of what you can do if you just get past your fears and get busy doing what you love. (Note to self… )
Mogabog leads off yesterday’s story hour with a tale that reads like the script for a great 70s film that starts as a road movie, but quickly turns into a character study of a drifter with a chip on his shoulder and a glimmer of gold deep in his malformed heart. Thank you for another nice one, Mogabog!
Amy Lenzo follows up yesterday’s debut post with her second story—an excellent plot twist built on Mogabog’s foundation. A hidden identity is revealed! A secret agent uncovered! Well played, Amy! I hope you’ll go for a three-peat tomorrow!
Amy I is followed by Amy II, who has redirected her own site to that of Ellis Nadler, who makes beautiful drawings and posts kind words a little bit later on in the string. I’m intrigued! The plot thickens! At any rate, Amy II makes a short, but very interesting observation: Perhaps the hands we see are not the creatures, but the hands of the creature’s recent snack. Very nice twist, Amy II. Good work!
Long-time Monster Supporter Andrew is back (Yay!) and tells of Chad, who always tried too hard to be one of the guys and keeps getting himself in trouble. If all the other monsters jumped off a bridge, he’d be jumping, too. Poor Chad…
Both Sam Berkes and Laura H. diagnose Monster 30 with infections: Sam thinks it’s staticalis occipitalis (which I actually looked up, Sam. Thanks a lot!), while Laura H. suspects leucochloridium paradoxum,—which actually is a real thing, proving once again that Mother Nature is hard to beat for tricked out diseases that aid the all-mighty food chain.
MattLatt thinks the eye is a living game of Simon. I used to like playing that game as a kid. I guess it was our Dance Dance Revolution. Those were good, steam-powered times… Speaking of Simon: Has anybody seen Simon? I miss his stories. Let’s send out a search party!
Rose is back with more excellent rhymes. Today it’s all about Bug Eye-A, who ends up working with Q-Ball Sally from a few days back. I like how it all ties together, Rose. Thank you for your story and for always taking the time to make it all rhyme.
What does Number 30 listen to? Placebo Headwound by The Flaming Lips, says Laura (the original Laura, that is. We have two Amys and two Lauras today.)
One final note to Tobie from Sweden before we get on to Monster 31: I’m glad you’re enjoying the Monsters, but I’m not sure how I feel about you watching them secretly in the middle of class. All by yourself. Shouldn’t you bring enough monsters for the whole class, mister?
Now on to Monster 31. This marks, of course, the end of the First Month of Monsters. So it felt right to return to another squiddish scientist. Sometimes I just have to go with what comes naturally. And once again, there is some ocular funny business at the end. I hope you won’t mind.
What is this one working on? Secret government experiments? New pharmaceuticals? Toad-sweat-flavored chocolate bars? Where do you think he got his graduate degree? What was the topic of his dissertation? Does he have any life outside the lab? I know you’ll tell me and for that 344 LOVES YOU
Hi, yeah I found you via Drawn.ca
Just wanted to say I love the work. Takes me back to when me and my old friend Dom used to draw random squiggles in pencil and then give each other the ones we did and try to use the lines to make a creature. The best one got a free lunch 🙂
Cornelius Bruchamp has long been known for his exquisite and accurate divinings. However, the good professor was found wandering lost in downtown one day, unaware of his surroundings or even his own name. Fortunately, Dr. Bruchamp’s identity was not in question by the local police and he was admitted to St. Forden’s Merciful General for the best supervised care. After many days of delicate attention, Cornelius spoke of a horrifying future upon awaking from this haunting vision.
Doves would spread across the land and devour the planet of its inhabitants, both plant and animal alike. This was the prophecy Bruchamp claimed and with the understanding of his accuracy in such things, panic spread across the hospital at a viral rate. As it would turn out, some 20 years later, it was not multiple doves that would cast this aspersion on the populace, but a singular monster. D.O.V.E. (Degenerative Organic Viral Entity) would be unceremoniously unleashed upon the world with the intent to eradicate all life. Unleashed by none other than Dr. Cornelius Bruchamp, himself. Having no recollection of his past or his character prior to the amnesia, the good doctor formed a new opinion of life on the planet. It was not a positive one and the solution was absolute extermination.
No one would give us a distinct diagnosis, but we knew Chelsea was afflicted. After much concern for her own well-being (following an incident involving a few shrimp, her right eye and a Smurf), we were coerced into checking her in to Bedlam.
She lived her days in a cloud of illusive moments, focusing her time on her crocheted sock monkeys and her homemade soaps. Limited vision in her right eye made reading somewhat difficult, so she did most things tactilely.
Chelsea’s eventual demential left her secluded. She saw things that weren’t there and tasted things she didn’t eat. She grew a fondness for Killians and insisted on drinking it before bed to “keep away the monsters.” She requested all mirrors be kept away from her room and when she saw herself in one, she cackled and squirmed so that the nurses would have to give her a “pill” (a tranquilizer dart).
The family was hopeless until Chelsea was given some ink, a Sharpie and some paper. First, she tried to eat it (but later realized it was not suitable for consumption in an unfortunate incident). She couldn’t see what she was doing, but she progressively would learn to design what we later learned were self-portraits. She’d blow the ink in a random array and decide on her portrait from there. Little by little, day by day, Chelsea designed more and more self-portraits. Each was distinct, but still therapeutic and insightful.
After 30 days of her self-portraiting, Chelsea, in an act of true resolve, requested, with utmost clarity and reserve, a mirror. And we knew she was on the mend.
“But what fish fly this way?”
“Only the finest.”
“Look, I know this has got to be some sort of scam, we’re nearly 4 light years past the knorr-aPaAogl fishing zone. You really expect me to believe these aren’t frozen?”
“Sir, I take my work _quite_ seriously. You can buy the fish or move on, you are holding up the line.”
“Fine. Give me 7 fathoms of the fl-IGGrdin naloPPnik.”
Everyday there was at least one like this. She wanted to put up a sign, but that would be caving to their disbelief. Nikk attracted fish. No matter where she went. It started off when she was young, she would go fishing with her father and she caught more than anyone.
“Sir. We’re going to have to gave a word with you.”
“Of course, what is it Game Warden?”
“We need to see if you are using an illegal fishing equipment, it appears that you are catching quite a lot of fish, and the population is suffering as a result.”
“Take a look around, but I assure you it is nothing more that my daughter’s gift.”
“What a beautiful eye she has. Sir, while there is no wrong doing, we’re going to have to ask you and your daughter to fish elsewhere from now on.”
Nikk grew older, and never really understood why her and her dad never fished anymore. She always loved fish, the ones in aquariums would always swim to her. It was kind of fun to her, she felt like the queen fish, but never really thought much of it.
Then everything changed. On a vacation to jeriumTradulik she was caught in a furious lightening storm and was struck.
“Doctor will she be ok?”
“She will live. But from now on she will be huge, need to eat 7 times a day and now she has these funny appendages that look like someone putting ink on paper and blowing with a cocktail straw.”
“What are we to do?”
“Feed her, love her.”
Nikk recovered, and so did her fish magnetism – stronger than ever. While she was still recovering at home fish started to crawl to the house. The street was littered with fish that couldn’t finish the crawl, there were fish flapping on the door step, fish slapping against the windows. People came and began to harvest the fish, but it got to a point where the trucks could not be filled up fast enough. Nikk was asked to leave for the good of the population.
“So what is fresh?”
“What is good?”
“OK, give me that.”
“Sir, you are going to have to leave.”
Nikk moved to a remote planet and settled down, her fish troubles behind her. On this planet she was regarded as one of the most beautiful women ever, just like the way she felt. She found love and settled down.
But something was missing, this planet was devoid of fish. She would spend whole days thinking of fish, just wishing for one goldfish or something; she knew they missed her as much as she missed them. She wished for fish.
It barely made the trip through space, but it made it. Nikk kept it for a few days before it died, but that one fish only made her want fish even more.
And then somehow fish on other planets spontaneously mutated, were able to fly out of ponds, break orbit and fly through space toward Nikk. Only the strongest and best fish made it. So Nikk opened up a fish market. She was happy.
Hey, I think I’ve seen this guy around! People often mistake him for Cthulhu, Devourer of Souls, but actually he is Professor Blulu, Devourer of Asparagus.
Growing up he had few friends because people would usually run away screaming “We are doomed! Cthulhu has come!” This caused him to be very shy and retiring. He spent a lot of time with sentient molds and fungus. This intense study led to a phosphorescent fungus taking root in his eyeballs, but it was a harmless, symbiotic relationship.
After he finished grad school, he toured briefly with the band Gwar as stunt monster Cthulhu. He was very popular with the fans because of his ability to perform hypnotic light shows with his eyes, but the money was not very steady and he soon returned to his botanical studies.
Today he is one of the world’s foremost authorities on lichens. Every once in a while he encounters someone who remembers him from his Gwar days, and shouts out, “Hey Cthulhu, flash me!” He always obliges, flashing his eyes a time or two.
Lots of great stories today! Mogabog… a masterpiece sir… I am truly humbled.
Chuck Cobb was always one to listen to his mother. She insisted that he get an education, take three tablespoons of cod liver oil before bed, solve the conundrums of Gödel’s proofs to unify arithmetic into a complete system of self-proving truth, and settle down with a nice girl. Chuck found all these tasks easy enough to accomplish… except for that last one.
Chuck was a real whiz with numbers, and when he completed Riemann’s work in prime number theory, revolutionizing electronic encryption, he made more money than Bill Gates, the Gross Domestic Product of Norway, and the Catholic Church combined… Still… he just never had any interest in the fairer sex.
One day, while jotting down the unified theory of physics in his blog, it suddenly struck Chuck why he never so much as turned a glaring, bulbous eye in the direction of the females… deep down, Chuck Cobb was really November Fantasia, and boy was he FABULOUS!
This explained so much! His limp wrists, his fascination with huge clunky shoes (even though he had two feet like everyone else, Chuck insisted on wearing no less than three shoes at a time with a six inch heel minimum!), and the fact that he looked oh so cute with eye shadow! He… No wait… addressed as dressed… SHE felt as liberated as a cockateel, freed from captive fetters!
Unfortunately… even with a new name like November Fantasia, eight pounds of designer makeup, and a shoe collection that makes Marilyn Monroe seethe in her grave with jealosy, she still had the fashion sense of a world class mathematician… that is to say none at all. In fact, November never even shaved her beard, or covered her prematurely bald head with a wig, or ever changed out of that lab coat that she never really needed in the first place. Yep, November Fantasia was pretty much the happiest, most intellegent, worst drag queen ever.
Andrew – I really liked your’s; it had me laughing.
Phorcys always wanted a son. He and his wife Ceto tried and tried, but always ended up with hideous monsters. They thought the 31st would be different, but found out soon enough that they were wrong. The “wheel-eyed” one is what they called him in the delivery room. Not something you want the doctors and nurses snickering about after 14.3 days in labor.
Sure they were a bit disappointed. He might not have been the son they were hoping for, one with two arms, legs, feet, and eyes. But a bald, bearded, three-legged, spindly-armed, squid-boy would have to do.
They named him Arges, and were determined to make him into a successful man. They enrolled him in the finest schools. Provided him with tutors to help with his studies. And after many years of strenuous work, it still wasn’t enough. Arges wasn’t cut out for success. He dropped out of school, and got a part time job at Payless. He always liked the smell of genuine leather upper detailed stitching cushioned insoles.
His days peddling pumps were superb, but Arges wanted more. He enrolled in a zoological studies class at his local community college and flourished. He took an internship with The Laboratory of Brackish Water Hydrobiology in St. Petersburg, Russia.
Arges spends most of his days in the lab now, analyzing collected Aral Sea materials for a research project his team is working on currently.
Some would call him a monster, but appearances are deceiving. His parents saw a boy, and that boy has since grown up to become a fine young man.
(Here’s to one month of monsters. Just think about how much virtual Champaign we’ll all be drinking when monster #344 comes around.)
Another victim of the Drawn.ca blackhole/portal! Love the video, it’s great to see people working live.
“My, what scrawny arms you have!”
“The better to caress your scales with, my dear”
“I must admit that I am a little taken aback.”
He paused from his work at the manacles and peered at her.
“It’s just… I am not quite sure that I imagined that you would have such spindly limbs when I saw your picture in the paper…”
He heaved a sigh, wiped the slobber from his tentacles and resumed securing her to the sterile table.
“Are you sure you know what you are doing?”, she breathed.
“Why of course. I have created many specimens for Him.”
She looked reassured… “I would give anything to be on His website. I have seen so many of His models. He’s such an amazing artist. Maybe I could meet Him, do you think?”
He peered down at her, clamped and helpless as she was. He frowned.
“You will need to remain very still if I am going to complete your necessary transformation to make you a suitable… subject”
“You’ve done this before right?”
“Of course.. He and I work hand-in-hand when determining the next candidates for His site”.
He fumbled with the pen and started to mark her up. Here. There. Soon she was covered in black marks like a living crossword puzzle.
“I’ve marked you up as we discussed. He needs you to be different…”
“Yes, I want to be different”
“… because if you aren’t different, He won’t draw you”
“I want Him to draw me!”
He reached for his sharpest scalpel, and then hesitated…
“What was your name again?”
“Odephelia. It’s Odephelia. Do you think He’ll like my name?”
His eyes lit up. Well Odephelia, we’re going to turn you into a monster! Let’s see what my handiwork can create out of you. Who know’s, He may actually watch over His creations like me. I wonder if He would be proud of me following in His footsteps. If not, well… I’ll appreciate the two twenties to gave me and get some spiked chowder for my trouble and then pretend I didn’t know you.
With that he leaned forward and began to work on her.
This reminds me of Prof.Zoidberg (or is it Zoigberg? No matter) from Futurama…the only Yiddish space freak on TV.
It’s true, elis. There must be some Zoidberg tadpoles floating around in the monster pool. Maybe this is a distant cousin of the good doctor. :^) Zoidberg… I love him, I do. And a doctor he is, too! Ach!
150 Jahre lang
polieren in einm dunklen Gang…
Das ist das Los des Led Polierers. Täglich poliert der arme Kerl Milliarden von Leds mit seiner Hand-und-Maulbürste. Rollen, Rollen, Rollen… Was für ein tristes Leben. Monster steh’n auf Skates und all das hippe rollende Zeugs. Viele Monsterfüsse brauchen viele Rollen, blitzblanke, blinkende, sauber polierte.
Des Polierers Traum ist, selber mal durch die Gegend zu düsen. Aber bei seinem miesen Gehalt, kann er sich grade mal so durchfuttern. Das durch kleinere Nahrungszufuhr ersparte Geld würde sicher für seine Traumrollen reichen, aber er leidet unter angeborener Fresssucht und die verunmöglicht die Diät und Sparidee.
Deshalb hat er in einem unbeaufsichtigten Moment ein wunderschön irrisierendes Rollenpaar zu seinem eigenen erklärt. Ein befreundeter Laserchirurg hat die Dinger mit den Augen des Polierers verschmolzen. Als Gegenleistung wird sein Chirurgenbesteck wieder auf neu getrimmt.
Der Taum vom Rumdüsen hat sich zwar nicht verwirklichen lassen, was den Ledputzer nicht weiter stört. Die Gefahr der Aufdeckung des Diebstahls und der damit verbundenen Entlassung, wäre sowieso zu gross gewesen. Seine neuen blinkenden himmelblauen Rollenaugen fallen ausser den Frauen, die seinem betörenden Verführerblick kaum standhalten können niemandem auf. Und die weiblichen Monster halten dicht und decken den blinkenden Glitzerkerl.