DAILY MONSTER 93 (of 100)
Good morning. Thank you for paying a visit to the monsters on a Sunday. I hope the weekend is going your way so far. Please check out yesteday’s stories. My little trip into R. Crumb territory has inspired two of our regular contributors to write song lyrics. If only we had anybody who makes music… I’m looking at you, Richard and transient. Please check it out:
Monster 93 is deep in thought. Or heavily medicated. It’s hard to tell from here. But the spangly pants make one wonder if we’re dealing with a rock’n’roll situation. Horse tranquilizers, anybody? But I may have this entirely wrong. What do you think this one’s story is?
Have an excellent Sunday. Get some rest,
so you’ll be in top shape for the final week of monsters.
7 more creatures are waiting for you and they’ll need
your very best stories! Let’s go out in style!
That tingling in your frontal lobes
means that 344 LOVES YOU
Shannel is shy. So shy she doesn’t want to come out to play. Instead she sits inside her dark Revver with her head spinning. Someone get me an Aspirin.
It has recently come to the attention of the government that watching Richard Simmons on television, and or participating in to many Richard Simmons excersizes, can lead to a state of spangled stupidity!
Take this fellow here…
For months the photographer had waited across the street in a parked Fiat with tinted windows. Ho Hos wrappers and empty Slurpee cups littered the passenger seat.
All the other paparazzi laughed at him -“stick to the red carpets and charity auctions” they told him, “you’ll never get a good shot of her like that.”
But he was a watcher, a quiet lurker so unlike the glittering young things he helped to foist upon the font pages. And perhaps it was this very difference that allowed him to see things a bit clearer, to begin to notice a thing or two about celebrity that the others missed.
He saw the attention swirl around a starlet like a smoke, for example, and if she took it for granted, he watched it harden into an invisible casing of narcism she carried everywhere like a handbag.
Soon, he knew, she’d forget to be kind to those without the smoke. She’d spend more and more time thinking about shoes and abs. She’d stop reading interesting books. And it would no longer occur to her to stop a small boring town to have a beer inside an old tavern.
The photographer knew that if he waited long enough, that one night, emboldened by a false sense of innate beauty, the starlet would forgo the usual time-consuming beauty regime -the push-up bra, the girdle, the make-up -and would pop down to the corner 24 hr health-food store for a bit of tahini she simply HAD to have on her quinoa.
After all, who would possibly see her at this hour?
#93 is in shock from sticking it’s spangly finger into an electric socket. Notice the hair standing on end, the glazed eyes staring out in SHOCK, the crazed smile at absolutely nothing. This monster is just glad to be alive! As far as rock and roll goes, maybe it was plugging in its amp and got careless. Thinking of stardom, maybe the new “electrified” look will help him get discovered!
Even though Haruko has been out of the clink (codeword for ‘pachinko’) for a decade or so, he still succumbs to fits of spasmodic bumping about – which are actually quite comforting to him, since he spent more than two-thirds of his life in the pachinko. Every pachinko ball houses a small monster, you know, and the rumours of Yakuza brotherhood are probably specious.
oh laws, I just love this monster’s mouth.
and the ‘spangly’ stories specially tickled my spangler fancy.
Helmuth Häßlich is foreman at Ermüden Kasten Braun, EKB LLC, pre-eminent box factory of Frankfurt, Germany. The long tiring hours at the factory cause many of the workers to go a bit loopy, as Helmuth is seen doing here. This pug fugly foreman is often seen bouncing from wall to wall as a result of astonishing boredom. The job pays well however, so the boredom is somewhat offset.
He’d been floating in the galley for about an hour. Every once in a while, he would stop and use a table or chair to keep still. In some cases, he developed a sort of game in congruence with the lack of gravity to pass the time. He’d been consciously aboard the Neuton IV for 3 months now, rationing his water and what little food he allowed himself. The rest of the crew were still sleeping. The ship was still on course, following the instructions previously programmed. All things considered, everything was going according to plan. Everything except for Lt. P.Y. Hankle being awake.
A little over 14 months into the scheduled journey, Lt. Hankle’s cryo-pod experienced a tragic mishap. Pulay (his father’s middle name given as his first while the first given as his middle: Yeln) was the nutritionist aboard the ship but he knew enough about the basic systems employed by such cruisers. Unfortunately, there was no available solution to Pulay’s problem. The ship had traveled within miles of an unknown, and not at all predicted, meteor storm. Several of the smaller chunks of rock had ricocheted off larger bodies and made direct contact with the ship. This resulted in several punctures of the Neuton IV’s haul. One of which lined up with Pulay’s cryo-pod, piercing the outer casing. Doing so had shattered the plexiglass shield. After waking, Lt. Hankle immediately woke two of the Systems Specialists to both repair the damage to the ship and his unit. They made quick work of the ship’s main repairs, but spent 3 days considering how to fix Pulay’s personal problem. After much arguing, reasoning and exhaustive amounts of mathematical calculations, it was determined that Pulay’s cryo-pod could not be effectively repaired with the equipment and supplies available on board. The crux of the problem being that the origin of the Neuton IV’s journey was destroyed in a freak super nova only two months after departing. Their destination was some three light-years away, while a closer alternative (which the ship was now directed towards) was only about one light-year away.
For some weeks, he had considered ending it, the inevitability of his situation, via the airlock’s opening welcome of vacuumed death. And every time, he would change his mind, holding out some glimmer of hope that something would happen to spare his life. Unfortunately, some 13 years after running out of food and becoming quite mad, the interstellar cruise liner that came close enough to receive the distress signal, was two weeks too late. Once boarded, a horrifying scene was revealed to the security crew of the Tulgato Star. Inside the airlock floated, quite lifelessly, five crew members of the Neuton IV. Inside a very intact cyro-pod, one very bearded and content Lt. P.Y. Hankle.
Monster nr.93 is a teenage-geek-monster that just asked a popular girl if she wanted to go and watch a film with him. (Something that you absoulutly can call social suicide) To his suprise, she says yes and give him a kiss. So now he is in shock and he is actually walking on clouds.
The end: )
LYSERGSÄUREDIÄTHYLAMID VERSUS GENMANIPULATION
Diese Kreatur ist in den wilden 68ern beim Experimentieren mit Albert Hoffmanns kleinen weissen Pillen öfters mal in Erscheinung getreten. Jahrelang hat sie dann in den Katakomben der Labore auf Eis gelegen. Und jetzt, ja jetzt, geklont und genmanipuliert weilt sie wieder unter uns.
Irreal oder real… jeder wie er es mag, der Wissenschaft sei Dank…