DAILY MONSTER 158
Good morning. How was your weekend? Did you enjoy the Oscars last night? They make an appearance in the groovy-glam stories that came in for the weekend monsters 156 and 157. Take a look:
Are you ready to start the week with Monster 158?
What’s happening here, do you think? Is 158 flying away from something in horror? Or towards something to cause horror? How big is 158, anyway? Tiny? Gigantic? Is it a fast beast? Or a slow one? If you can spare a few minutes of the day (or you need a good excuse to procrastinate for a little while longer), please…
In other news, the new issue of WIRED hit the newsstands
over the weekend, and look what’s on page 74:
Isn’t that excellent? A big, big Thanks to Hugh Hart for being a friend to the monsters, and also to the Wired art department for making the monsters look great in this month’s playlist, and — BONUS — in the table of contents, where Monster 95 is Waylon Smithers adjacent! I’m so excited!
The lead article in this month’s issue is on the potential and the realities of the Free Economy. In keeping with that theme, they’re giving away free copies of this issue to the first 10,000 comers at this link. So order one for yourself, or have them send one to a friend. (I looked through the rules and regulations and it’s not a subscription thing. Provided that you live in the U.S. they’ll simply send you one free issue — with monsters in it. :^)
Right now it’s time for me to do a little more work and then hit the hay, but whether I’m asleep or awake, you can bet your bottom dollar that 344 LOVES YOU
it’s a tiny mutated bumblebee (that’s the reason why it is so thin), flying towards hazlenut bushes, to shake their blossoms. and then, what a disaster, dust is in the air, it should better be “love is in the air”. this dust is not an angels dust, oh no pure hazelnutblossom dust. what a horror for all the poor hay fever noses.
For the third time in as many days, Elgar found himself flying towards the inevitable head-to-ground collision.
Living on the nodules of a grapevine already held its own special set of perils; wasps, nematode quakes and downy mildew (yuck, it had taken him days to get that out of his fur!) to name a few. However, Elgar had recently developed a taste for the oddly addictive juices formed by a few grapes, trapped and fermenting in a niche where the vine was hard-pressed against the wooden slates of it’s arbor.
After a snootful of said nectar, his ancillary eye (the one that was supposed to help him balance on the vine’s curlicues and oft-times slippery leaf surfaces) would go fuzzy. The resulting aerial acrobatics, as he’d sail (head first) off the vine, caused his fellow quatrocelli no end of entertainment – and Elgar, no end of embarrassment (not to mention, a considerable amount of pain.)
Sometimes in the early mornings, when her hair was not yet managed and one could tell she had a terrible hangover from the look in her eyes, Mary Sue really regretted that she had refused to wear her braces regularly…
Wired?!! How great is that? Congrats, Stefan.
Just ordered my copy of your new book from Amazon last week, and hopefully can coordinate my travels to LA to line up with your monster-related bash.
Best, as always,
Ray is a sad monster because he eats in a very strange manner. He skims through the air at high speeds, hoping to catch all manner of bugs in his gigantic teeth, much like a sperm whale cruising the icy depths of the ocena. But, what Ray really wants is a cheeseburger, all medium rare and juicy and crispy fries. However, his gigantic overbite, while handy for sheltering the small spiders that clean between the grooves of his teeth, prevent him from being able to render his food. Ah well, summer does provide him with clouds of mosquitos to consume, they taste like fresh tomatoes and pepper.
Stephen was not like other flies. Instead of buzzing around, searching for a pretty female or some nice food, he spent his time pondering. And you can tell, Stephen pondered about many things. Why the sun was a round circle, for example. Or why he would be sticking to marmalade on a leftover slice of bread like a finger to super glue. It were hard questions and many of them remained unsolved.
He wasn’t exactly the biggest fly around. Since he was pondering so often, he wasn’t the best-nourished one either. Soon, he earned his nickname “Socrates, the Crane Fly.” from the fat, big flies who gathered around a fresh pile of food, snickering their stupid buzzing laughs.
The final event for him was the one when he went into a nice, smelly apartment the flies had found and, after they had found its former owner dead on a chair, conquered happily. He just had eaten a bit of a dead crow he found in the yard, but when he flew into the damp, stinky flat, he almost wished he could throw up like those strange humans sometimes did.
The fat, “cool” flies were gathering around an old lightbulb. It was quite on the fritz and caused the light to flare quickly. And there they sat and did nothing less than farting. Those uneducated fools farted and rated the sound and the smell! Stephen couldn’t believe it.
With a shocked buzz, he flew through the window as fast as he could. Never again he would wonder if it wasn’t better to adapt to society. Never.
Here’s what I find fascinating. In the beginning, the eye of the monster was nearly always placed first. With this latest batch, I can never figure out which way is up until the very end of the drawing.
Btw….did you read the comments on the Wired free offer? They’ve not made any friends over there. I’ve requested mine tho.
I’m getting the distinct feeling that this chap was happily flying through the air, toward his destination, when after hours spend aloft he suddenly spotted the place where he started out!
He realised he’d been flying in circles, hence the look of shock on his face. Perhaps he should have brought a map.
(P.S. I’ve noticed that you draw a lot of the monsters upside-down from your perspective – how do you do that?! Do they look different than you’re imagining them when you turn them round and look at them…?)
Tired of being ostracized in his colony, Howard broke all conformities and moved away. He became a highly regarded lawn mower, who charged top dollar for his services. He became a vegetarian as well, to make his job all the more pleasant. Lawns across the world are saved because of him!
Happily clicked on the Wired site and… they only ship to the US.
Congrats anyways Stephen, the monsters are in good company with Waylon!
So exciting about the Wired. I read it last night and showed my husband that your monsters were in there. 🙂
Sometimes, when I’m having a really bad day, this creature flies down from Shadow Mountain and eats my town.
Yay! I ordered FREE! This is all just blowing up for you 🙂 Next there will be monster ties and monster stickers on monster notebooks in monster backpacks! Where will it end? When will it end? NEVER! NEVER, I SAY!
[The neutrality of this monster story is disputed.]
[This monster story needs additional citations for verification.]
Having long established its neutrality on pretty much all matters international , Sweden is an ideal font of Olympic judges for the 1936 games [POV], which Yay Sweden! Accordingly, Monster #158 gets a job. He says the oath: “I promise that we shall officiate in these Olympic Games with complete impartiality, respecting and abiding by the rules which govern them in the true spirit of sportsmanship,” and presumably..? These “rules” include not ranking anyone higher than ten..?
And yet! Time and again, with the completion of each event, #158 unfurls his wings to display his score: 77. 77; 77: everyone gets ranked 77.  And each time, #158 cocks his head and listens. For (it turns out): the complex and subtle diphthongs required in the pronunciation of the word “seventy-seven” in Swedish (“shütioohshü”) makes it the ideal word to determine the True Origin of each athlete.  By listening to each person’s perplexed reaction (“77?!”) #158 knows instantly if they’re German, Norwegian, Swedish, or what. The idea being: this will come in, like, handy..? Along the Norwegian border..? If, you know, a war breaks out..? At some point..?
And, in fact: Even for events that aren’t ranked by judges (like the long jump), #158 shows up to rank them anyway. Naoto Tajima (eventual bronze winner) jumps, sees #158’s score and says, “Shichijushichi?”  Luz Long (silver) says, “Siebenundsiebzig?”  The point was to hear them try to say it in Swedish, and that’s not exactly how it goes down, but still, important data is collected and used later for Sweden’s problematic role in the Second World War.  [POV]
Just a word about that “Siebenundsiebzig”: in prelims, Jesse Owens has two fouls, and a third will disqualify him from the finals. Knowing that Owens can clear the minimum distance even if he begins his jump from several inches behind the line, Luz Long tells him to play it safe so he can advance. Owens takes the advice, advances to Finals, and eventually takes the gold (“Seventy-seven?” he says, perplexed; #158 writes this down). 
After Long dies, he is awarded the Pierre de Coubertin medal for sportsmanship. Monster #158 has never been awarded that medal. Nor, actually, has anyone from Sweden. But we are not judging!  Sweden, “Mitt liv som hund” is totally our favorite movie! [POV] Strindberg..? Big fans! [POV] And when we’re at IHOP..? Lingonberry pancakes, please. [POV] We’re just saying, we just read all shütioohshü pages of “Sweden_during_World_War_II” on Wikipedia , and now we don’t know what to think..?
Except, Monster #158..? Booooo.
You should work harder at being a better monster. [POV]
now that is a horse fly i would not want to be chased by. i rather enjoy chunks of me still being attached the whole of me, which is what i imagine might be lost in an altercation with that thing.
Known by the cargo-cult cardinals only as Bribjii (The Vine-Daughter), the Inverted-Foot Dowelrod Soptooth nocturnally feasts on various types of oblong albino coconuts from various dowelrod trees in the jungles of Gubrem.
The Gubrem dowelrod lumber industry has all but made both the surrounding forests and these majestic creatures exceedingly scarce. Attempts to keep them healthy in captivity have not proved sucessful, as they share a strange symbiotic relationship with the dowelrod forest canopy.
The dowelrod pollen that collects in its fur settles deep, which helps in the creature’s molting and immune system abilities. The Dowelrod Soptooth will then undergo a sneezing fit within their mating season. This lasts upwards to three months, which shakes loose the pollen in a silent contract between plant and beast.
This monster reminds me of the “monster” mosquitos I encountered (and got eaten alive by) in Minnesota last summer.
yes! vsl introduced your talent to me. i work with inner city children, and found your technique inspiring. they would love you! i know this sounds probably a bit cliche but …. have you ever thought of making coffee mugs for your store? (i see the messager bags are sold out) or t-shirts, so that one might afford some of your art to “display”? perhaps one of your great button sayings on one side and a monster on the other.
just a thought 🙂 amy
DIE Schlagzeile des Tages…
GEFÄHRLICHE MUTANTENHUMMEL ÜBER OBSTPLANTAGEN!!!
Da die Forschungsergebnisse bislang vor der Öffentlichkeit aus Angst vor Betriebsspionage geheim gehalten worden waren, erfuhr auch die örtliche Presse nichts vom Testflug von Brummel 1.
Der Landwirtschaftlichen Forschungsanstalt ist das scheinbar Unmögliche gelungen: Die Aufzucht der Riesenhummel. Die Bestäubung der Obstbäume wird nicht mehr dem Zufall überlassen. Die Riesenhummel ist wetterresistent, stachellos, und sehr bestäubungseffizient. Sie stellt keine Gefahr für die Bevölkerung dar, im Gegenteil, sie sorgt an warmen Tagen für ein laues Lüftchen, spendet während des Überflugs Schatten und die Geräusche der Flügel im Ultraschallbereich dienen der Mückenabwehr. Was für eine Wohltat also…
Angst und Panik sind unbegründet, nur, das weiss das noch niemand.