DAILY MONSTER 151
Good morning. Happy Presidents’ Day. If you live in the U.S., that is. Or if you’d like to celebrate anyway, in which case I suppose it’s BYOP. Why not toast a few commanders in chief by checking out yesterday’s chief-worthy stories?
Are you ready for Monster 151?
151 seems… edgy. Is it because he has to work on a bank holiday? Tie too tight? Did he find out that his credit score is lower than he thought? Or is he hatching some sort of diabolical scheme? I think we’re going to need some background intelligence on this guy? Can you help? Will you please…
Thank you for keeping an eye on the monsters,
be it on a holiday or just on a regular old Monday.
I’m glad you’re here. Mostly because 344 LOVES YOU
Dillbladder McMolderguppy is an accountant to the stars. That doesn’t make him as popular as you might think.
Vapo-gas budgeting, Various receipts for casual asteroid purchasing, meteor debits, satellite credits. Number-crunching spreadsheets for interest earned on depreciating orbits. It’s all very taxing.
‘There’s money to be made in the stars’, his dad exclaimed one fall evening, through a telescope. ‘And you’ve got a mustache for numbers.’ He nodded silently then, a boy of seven.
He’s staying up tonight to balance in a tax-shelter for Groblikk IV and its surrounding moonoids. The denizens have landed in his back yard with thousands of shoeboxes full of receipts.
It turns out they want to pay up front for their book-balancing. In some sort of beeping slimy squares. Foreign currency.
It’s gonna be a long night.
Richard had had a horrible pain in the back the entire day. For some odd reason, he could not stand upright and when trying to walk, he looked like those ducks on wheels the little children pull behind them. You know, those with the nodding head. It was painful enough having to endure these, but the looks of the colleagues were giving him the creeps. For Richard, it seemed like they were laughing. But why?
While he was hobbling to his table at lunch, the inevitable happened. He hit his head at one of the chairs that suddenly seemed so big. When he hit it, he tumbled back, throwing his tablet in the air. His bowl of soup turned, turned, turned – without spilling a drip! – and finally ended up on his head, soaking him thoroughly.
By now, the rest of the canteen was roaring with laughter. Richard, of course, didn’t find that very funny! “Don’t laugh at me!”, he yelled. “Better relieve me from this damn pain in my back!”
It only dawned on him when his friend Stan, a very tall person, put his hand on his shoulder and said very clearly. “Well, Rich, then you should put the second button of your shirt out of your seventh button hole!”
Ronny Ronaldo stuck is hand slyly into his desk and unwrapped a piece of Beetle Gum (a live Beetle in every piece!). He popped it into his mouth and bit down, it let out a fantastic crunch.
Betsy McGee raised her hand. “Ronny’s chewing gum again miss, and you told him if he did it again, he’d have to go to the principal’s office.” Miss Klepper quickly darted towards Ronny’s desk and put out her hand. “Spit,” she ordered. (She was a veteran, 27 years of service.) But Ronny had already swallowed, big chunks of beetle and all.
He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue “See? I was not! She’s just mad because–”
“Open your desk, Ronny.” And there it was, the scarlet gum wrapper.
“But someone else must have–”
“I don’t want to hear it, Ronny.” The teacher quickly wrote a hall pass and a note.
Ronny shuffled back and forth in front of door 151. Finally, he knocked. “Come in.” The voice that beckoned sounded like swallowing sandpaper. Ronny turned the handle slowly. “Hurry it up!”
Principle Hobart Schniperdink sat behind a desk made of iron and steel. It had spikes coming out of it, as if it could double for a torturous bed of nails. He quickly read the note that Ronny handed him. “Gum infraction. I’ll check the book.” He opened the red two volume edition of Monster Crimes and Punishments. The book itself was covered in thick monster hair, and it let out a tortured groan when Schniperdink opened it, and then little yelps as he flipped each page.
“But I didn’t do it!”
Schniperdink looked up slowly, a pause, a gaze, his thick arms folded across his chest. “Noooooo? You didn’t dooo it?” Schniperdink reread the note from the teacher, his eyes large and looming under his reading glasses. “You’re sure?” Ronny nodded his head from side to side.
“Well then you won’t mind if I double check?” And in a flash, Schniperdink had whipped off his green tie and lashed Ronny’s hands down to the desk in front of him. His tall hair tilted from side to side as he moved.
“You’re telling me you didn’t eat gum in Miss Klepper’s class?”
Principal Schniperdink stood up and trailed his long nose hairs across Ronny’s bare arm. Ronny let out a blood curdling scream as tendrils of monster snot dripped down his skin. It was a sensation like no other, hot sticky burning slimy. Ronny began to shake al over, cold shivers up and down his spine.
“YOU’RE SAYING YOU’VE NEVER EATEN GUM IN MISS KLEPPER’S CLASS?”
“Nooooooo” Screamed Ronny.
“We have ways of making you talk, Ronaldo!” And Schniperdink stood up quickly and hung his dripping nose hairs directly over Ronny’s face.
“But I–I–didn’t do it. ”
Schniperdink leaned in close. Ronny felt a drip of noxious snot land on his cheek. He opened his eyes. Looking up into that black cloud of nose hair was like peering into a dark world, an evil forest that could trap you forever in its wiry tendrils.
Ronny cleared his throat and mustered up all of his courage. He looked directly at the principal, and he spoke calmy. “I didn’t do it. I was wrongly accused.” Schniperdink leaned back, he spoke in his growling whisper. “You’re saying Miss Klepper was wrong. Our teacher’s are rarely wrong, Ronaldo.”
“It was a simple misunderstanding.”
Schniperdink took a step back and peered at Ronny. Ronny stared back. “Alright, you’re free to go.”
Ronny ran down the hall and washed his arm with glee. When he returned to his classroom, he felt strong, untouchable. Everything in the room seemed smaller than before. And he then he knew, he had left a boy and returned, a monster.
This monster is a corporate recruiter at
monsters.com. Monsters.com is not to be confused with monster.com, the work search website jobless humans use to find employment.Fredrick travels the world looking for the scariest monsters to work under small children’s beds and closets. Fredrick is having a difficult time filling spots for boogey men or closet monsters in the US. The number of american children that believe in the boogeyman or “monster in my closet” has steadily declined in the last 50 years. Fredrick blames it on the “gentrification” of monsters by Maurice Sendak (Where the Wild Things are) and most recently Cartoon Network (Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends).To make matters worst, American monsters make more money appearing on horror porn (like the SAW series) versus scaring the living be-jeesus out of kids. So poor Fredrick now travels to India and China looking for monsters to fill the vacancies in American closets and underneath beds.The constant traveling and time zone changes has given poor Fredrick funky gray monster hair and a bad case of overgrown nose hairs. Fredrick needs to definitely quit his job.
What a great group of stories! I could never compete……one slam-dunk right after the other.
I’m with Inanna on that. Hard to compete with such great stories!
This is a shot of “lab rat” Lesters’ brother Henry. He tried out for a part on Beakman’s World back in the early 90’s but didn’t get it. His brother Lester was only there to give him a ride from the audition, and he was the one they ended up picking for the role. It’s bothered him ever since. He got a job bagging groceries at Kroger and has been leading a pretty normal life for the most part. Lester and Henry haven’t spoken since 1995.
Solomon J. Solomon was the best used car salesman in Monsterland. In fact, he was so good that he only kept one car on the lot at a time. He knew that whomever or whatever walked through that door, he would sell them that one car. It was a game he played, and he was very good at it.
Always the customer would leave happy, and perhaps just a bit surprised when they learned that, no, a minivan isn’t the best vehicle for a growing growling family of six. According to Solomon J. Solomon the perfect car for them was a silver Gremlin with the peeling paint and high mileage.
Solomon J Solomon had a perfect record in customer satisfaction. He’d only had one complaint in all his years of selling cars. He had apologized gracefully to the customer and to further show his sincerity, Solomon invited him over to his home for dinner. He was delicious. Problem solved.
Yes, Solomon J Solomon was the best used car salesman in Monsterland. But he’d trade it all away in an instant for a good cup of tea.
This creature needs a guest appearance on Myth Busters along side Jamie Hyneman.