DAILY MONSTER 42
Goood morning. Thank you for checking in on this, the penultimate day of 2006. We’ve almost got this one sliced off!
But you’re not just running out the clock! You came in with some great stories for Monster 41. New contributor Selma thinks it’s a revived dancer from the Folies Bergères, while Schlockading envisions a violent shoot-out at a tap dancing performance! (This kind of thing happens all too often. It’s tragic!) Victoria wonders if Number 41 is dancing or if Nature is calling. Fair question, Victoria. I’m glad you like the creature either way.
Crimson gets extra geek points for correctly identifying the drum beats at the end of the clip. I have to put those in, by the way, because it keeps the Revver transcoding software from cutting off the last one or two seconds of the clip. Sometimes I snap my fingers, one time I used the beginning of the Housemartin’s Bow Down, but lately it has, in fact, been the opening beats of Dress You Up! Very nicely identified, Crimson! Well done!
The great, eerie story of the day, however, comes from Terry T. His tale of the hunting siblings Toichido and Mei is a strange and beautifully creepy combination of Running Man, Brazil, and Beauty Secrets of the Rich and Famous! Excellent, excellent work, Terry.
Finally, a big shout-out to Mogabog, who has posted amazing, brain-twisting stories every day these last few weeks. He is back with monstrous (yet deeply kind) introspection. Thank you for sharing your brilliance, Mogabog. And to all of you: Every once in a while I just can’t help but gush about all your cool ideas and about your generous spirit. Thank you for being here!
Before I get all verklempt, let me introduce you to Monster 42. He may not have the answer to life, the universe, and everything, but at least he’s got a yo-yo, and that’s a start. What do you think he’s up to? Is he playing in between classes at Monster School? Is his yo-yo actually the size of Ayers Rock? Or is it not a yo-yo at all, but a complex multidimensional computer interface? You hold in your brains the Magnificent Unknown: I know that I don’t know what you know, but I know that you know and I know that you’ll tell us! And that’s one of the reasons that 344 LOVES YOU
“Thank Brach for Brach!” They say on the small planet of Mervis. It is the great Brach from whom all life flows.
The world of Mervis is an odd one, spinning for a Mervian year in a counter-clockwise motion, then for a Mervian year in a clockwise motion and so repeating for all eternity, or until the great Brach tires of their world.
The planets surface, of a red pigment, is made of concentric valleys and mountains circling to the capitol city of Entil. The people of Entil’s sole purpose is to continue the spinning of the planet, so that Brach will not be displeased and tire quickly of the planet. These dedicated souls work round-the-clock to ensure the planet’s consistant spin in the currrent direction. Their most important job falls of The Day of Change, the Mervian new year, when all citizens of the city must use a personal bicycle pedal-like instrument to aid in the reversal of the planet’s spin.
Unfortunately for the Mervians Brach tires quickly and about every 20-50 Mervian years Brach throws the planet haphazardly across the universe. Few survive the impact and those who do fall into a deep slumber until Brach chooses to revitalize the planet and the cycle begins again.
The Mervians, the worshippers of Brach, would be glad to know that despite Brach’s disaffection with the unceasing continuation of life on Mervis, it remains his choice planet and he will always return, bringing forth the Day of Glory. A day spend entirely in worship of the all seeing eye.
1) self-exploding piglet
2) meat buoy in shark infested waters (viewed upside down) with auto-extending marine radio antenna
This is Mista Mornin’ Monsta’s son (Monster 33). His name is Fredrick Mornin’ Monsta.
He’s that annoying kid at a bus stop who won’t stop talking and asking questions. Wait until HE learns what a hangover feels like!
This is more of a portrait, the innocent, quiet, unannoying time. Sitting there, yoyoing. In his own world.
Just watch out for him. Like his father, his fuzzy teeth and stinky breath will come out in time, he will be loud when you want it to be quiet – all the time. He is a danger to non-morning people everywhere.
Nice monster! I really like your work on all of your monsters! It makes you either wanna go “Rawr!!”, or, “SqUEEK!” When I first seen the finished monster today; the first image that popped into my head was an elephant with a bad hair day on stilts! Yes, I know, very ‘out there’. But, great job!
Before anyone discovered the scientific method for or suffered the repercussions of busting open atoms, Sigmund Koppel aka The Supplanter won the local yo-yo competition in the Split The Atom category. In fact, his great great great times fifty-two grandfather invented the trick. The Koppel’s are of an incredibly old and venerated monster lineage, older even than the oldest testament written. They live secretly among us; are very shy, peaceable and fond of numerology; adore latkes with chopped liver; and speak mostly in tandem palindromes. A typical Koppel greeting one to another:
They are true mensches, all, and yo-yos are their favorite tschotkes.
again, I am giddy with the animation! coooooool!!!
We encouraged him to try many things in high school. He tried baseball and failed. Basketball and failed. Football and ended up in the hospital. He tried chorus and band and eventually key club. We began to worry when there were no clubs or groups or factions left. We didn’t want him to be lonely, so we started a local 4-H club for after school activities. One of the first things he picked right up on was the yo-yo. Now he won’t take it off. He sleeps with it, eats with it, and bathes with it. I can’t imagine what he does in that bathroom, but it’s an awful racket every time. I suppose it’s hard to control water temperature when you’re always walking the dog or going around the world. Whatever makes him happy, that’s all that matters.
Seit sich Bartholomäus für die Jojo Olympiade qualifiziert hat, erhöhen sich seine taglichen Trainingseinheiten um ein Vielfaches. Bartl hat kaum mehr Zeit zu essen, geschweige denn sich seiner dringend notwendigen Körperpflege zu widmen.
Einzig die Angst sein Jojo könnte sich in seiner wild wuchernden Haarpracht verfangen, lässt ihn vernünftig werden. Heute geht’s zum Friseur, Kahlschur ist angesagt.
Dieser weise Entschluss hat ihn davor gerettet, sein Dasein bis zu seinem Lebensende im nahegelegenen Zoo fristen zu müssen.
Zoologen aus aller Welt, die ja ständig darauf aus sind, neu zu kategori-und katalogisieren, befinden sich in einem Freudentaumel über die vermeintliche Neuentdeckung im Tierreich. Für Bartl bleibt zu hoffen, dass sie nicht verrückt spielen und aus Wut über die entgangene neue Art, ihn als mutiertes Saurierei ins paläontologische Museum stecken.