Good morning. Thank you very much for checking in on the monsters on a weekend. I really appreciate it. You’re in for a treat with yesterday’s excellent stories. Take a look:


Now please say Hello to Monster 156.
He’s one of the happier creatures
I’ve seen come through the turnstile:

What’s going on with him? Are those shoes actually shoes? Did he swallow a hunting rifle? And what is he so excited about in the first place? If you’re willing to sacrifice a little slice of your Saturday, I’d love it if you’d…


I hope that you’ll have a warm, cozy, dry, and healthy weekend.
Please join me again tomorrow for Monster 157.
Until then, please remember that 344 LOVES YOU


  • sue bebié
    23 February 2008 11:20 am

    he swallows not only hunting rifle. he eats all weapons he can find. sometimes he looks very funny, especially when he eats guns. his head shrinkles to a small size one. the reason, why he swallows all that metallic stuff is, he is a make-love-not-war-generation monster.
    with his seven miles boots he can jump everywhere he ever wants all over the whole world, to find and swallow every weapon.
    and then… love and peace will stay forever.

  • JAK
    23 February 2008 11:23 am

    Gedwinn, a rare rifle-head, was dressed to kill – on the dance floor, that is!
    All decked out in her orange platforms and a pair of heel-cut slacks, she brushed out her chest fur, then accentuated the longer strands with monster mousse. Ged (as her friends called her) held a copy of Cosmonstrette to the mirror – comparing herself to the shotgun head on the front.
    Blood-black makes my chin recede, and then my teeth seem longer, she thought, that’s a good thing. Turning her head sideways, upside down and vertically – Ged checked herself from every angle. When she’d teased out the last of her fur, and circled her eyes one more time with monstcara, she was content.
    She stomped down the street, garnering admiring stares from grenade-heads and pistol-capped monster boys. “It’s going to be a fun night,” she murmured.

  • 23 February 2008 12:42 pm

    It’s 1999, so there are a few Harry Potters and at least four Austin Powerses. But my division always goes for the conceptual. Last year, I went as “Various Stages in the Life of Rockin’ Rollen Stewart” (rainbow wig, John 3:16 sign, world’s longest moustache, restraining order), so this year I’m trying to beat that. This is the high point of the year at our office, so if you can pull off a good costume and not accidentally hook up with anyone, you’re sort of golden until at least June. I’ve chosen to go as “Lines from the Album ‘My Aim is True’ by Elvis Costello”: I bug my eyes out like I’m looking at someone with a face like a magnet (Watching the Detectives); I conceal one of my arms in some wedding cake (Alison) and stick the other out the back of the costume so it looks like a juggler running out of hands (Welcome To The Working Week); put on a black patent leather glove (Miracle Man), big red shoes (The Angels Wanna Wear My R~ S~) and loose fitting white pants (Wave A White Flag); refuse to dance (No Dancing); reshape my head like a rifle (almost sure there’s a rifle or gun or something in Less Than Zero); put on an old Edwardian looking corset that’s completely falling apart (Poison Moon: “And these bones, they don’t look so good to me”; accentuate my mouth (“lip service” lines from Cheap Reward); OK YES IT IS A STRETCH DO YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT. But I couldn’t get anything else together and I know at least this: no one else will have the same costume as me (a minor scandal: two of my officemates are both going as “Y2K” this year, although they took different approaches). There is a lot riding on this, for me, personally. I AM UNDER A LITTLE STRESS DUE TO THINGS AT WORK I WON’T GO INTO THEM NOW.
    And so, when people start coming up to me and saying, “Weren’t you just in the copy room?” and I say no and they say, “Someone else is here with the same costume I guess,” I can’t believe it. I make my way to the copy room, past “Standard Ghost” (sheet, two holes); “Dog Dressed Up For Halloween” (bee costume, dog mask); “Molly Ringworm” (don’t… just… just let it go); “Sexy Girl Scout”; “Sexy Nurse”; “Sexy Cat”; “Sexy Ralph Nader”. And then I see it: someone else dressed up as “Lines from the Album ‘My Aim is True’ by Elvis Costello”. Is it the guy from Accounting? With the forehead? I can’t tell. As I approach, though, someone asks him/her, “What are you supposed to be?”
    “Monster 156,” the person says. I duck back over by the punch bowl. My costume is still unique. It’s possible no one remembers I hooked up with Jenny from HR at the last “Labor Daze” party.
    It’s possible my job is saved.

  • bbibo
    23 February 2008 12:45 pm

    After spending his day off on the phone with a tech services representative half way across the globe, Jimmy dared to think his computer problems were finally over. He grabbed his dancing shoes and headed out into the night.

  • GristleBean
    23 February 2008 5:05 pm

    The CSR department all know him by name
    And the phone company’s really fond of the fame
    Of the Telemarketer Junkie
    Sure, call him, he’ll sign up for any old thing
    From cruiselines to Spruce-Pines
    to toasters that sing
    To the Telemarketer Junkie
    If there’s ‘No Obligation’, without hesitation
    this guy will scream out in glee
    Without further adoo, for you on Line Two
    is The Telemarketing Junkie!

  • SpookyDeeCat
    23 February 2008 11:46 pm

    In the news of Entertainment Tonight: The Aliens from the 1979 classic “Aliens” have had no work since its last installment and has gone the Metrosexual route with a new line of shoes! “Big shoes for big Species” is the tag line. So far the frighteningly fashionable fabulous four have made only a few million, but they hope to reach billions soon.

  • Sue Bebie
    16 August 2008 6:00 am

    Veränderungen bezüglich des Outfits sind nicht zu unterschätzen…
    Wegen seines seltsam geformten Kopfes wurde er schon von Armeechefs verschiedener Länder angefragt als Statue zu arbeiten. Es wäre eine leichte, gutbezahlte Arbeit gewesen, keine Frage. Aber welches gestandene Monster möchte schon, dass man nur von seinem gewehrförmigen Kopf Notiz nimmt? Und überhaupt, als Pazifist hätte so eine Anstellung sowieso gegen seine Prinzipien verstossen.
    Traurige Angelegenheit…hmm…
    Ein guter, künstlerisch begabter Freund hat ihm, um die Aufmerksamkeit der Betrachter mehr auf die unteren Regionen zu lenken, wundervolle signalfarbene Schuhe entworfen.
    Magie pur…Begeistert lauscht nun jederman mit gesenktem Blick seiner sinnlichen Stimme, anstatt sich über ihn zu wundern.

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