DAILY MONSTER 194 (of 200)
Good morning. Thank you for checking in on the monsters on a Saturday. Looks like you guys had fun with yesterday’s monster. Monster 193 was a strange one, and boy, did it bring out some seriously strange and fascinating stories:
By comparison, Monster 194 is a pillar of the community:
If you’re reading this on my Amazon blog, please click here to see the video.
194 is certainly well dressed, but I’m having a hard time reading his mood. Exuberant? Aggressive? Merely smiling politely in quadruplicate? Is he at work? And if so, what’s his job? Is he at home? At a social event? Once again I have to ask: What’s going on here? I suspect that you already have it all figured out, and I hope that you’ll take a minute to…
Please join me again tomorrow for Monster 195.
In the meantime, I hope you’ll have a sunny Saturday
with lots of well-earned R&R and the warm glow
of knowing that 344 LOVES YOU
It’s a hunkerzinke!
Chewing Harry is the Monsterworld’s fastest Hamburger-eater and tap dancer. The noisy klick-klack of its teeth goes well with the clacking sound of its feet.
Every monster has his own strength.
While Gaston’s younger brother (the slacker!) was content to to fritter his away, spending his days in the library tricking people into holding his books, Gaston indulged his strong bent for the study of etiquette to its fullest.
He became the foremost professor of etiquette in the land, thanks to his unique ability to demonstrate the only polite way to talk while you’re chewing–not to mention lecture on it at the same time, and grit teeth over the behavior of his students, as well.
Cronkite brushed his eleventy-eleven teeth and pulled on his eleven boots and headed down the street to the Arturo Mammoth dance studio. It was Wednesday night and tonight they were learning the rhumba! Also, Cronkite had it in his mind that this very night he’d ask Miss Decabelle if she’d accompany him to the Midnight Masquerade on Saturday.
He was not certain of her response, since most all of the ladies seemed to dread their three-minute dance intervals with him, all except Miss Decabelle. And, that is what gave him the smidgen of hope that burned in his breast as he tripped down the sidewalk.
“Slow…slow…quick/quick!” The dance master droned out the rhythm to the foxtrot, tapping in time with his bamboo pointer. Cronkite did fine until his last ‘quick’ – with eleven feet only, he had to switch back quickly to his far right foot on the twelfth beat – which usually resulted in him landing heavily on one of the dainty pedals of his unfortunate partner.
However, with Miss Decabelle, things were different. Smitten as Cronkite was, it hadn’t entered his cherry-pit-sized brain, that she was a ten-foot. And, her dexterous shuffling always resulted in his twelfth step landing harmlessly on the floor. (She was rather smitten, too, you see.)
He entered the dance studio, glancing around for his lady fair. Their eyes met, and there was no doubt, she’d be his partner for the dance – and maybe well beyond.
“The best things, happen while you’re dancing,” Cronkite sang, taking Miss Decabelle in his arms and twirling her across the floor. (slow…slow…quick/quick!)
He was not able to turn his eyes away from the sight in front of him. His stomach made somersaults and he noticed how the sandwich he had had for breakfast wanted to join the disgusting scene on the floor. However, he was on the job. He could not show any signs of affection.
Special Agent Brutus Holmes had seen enough corpses to make two crematories able to never work again. Yet, this was something that made the teeth from his four mouths clench together in disgust.
The legs of the corpse were hugged closely to the smashed body; it was clear that the rigor mortis already began his disgusting work. The eyes reflected the light of the neon lamp above, but the light of life was expired for eternity. Yet, the head was the thing that shocked Brutus the most: it was severed from the body itself in a brutal way, showing that the killer knew no mercy in fulfilling his task.
Brutus watched the hairs on this arms rising with every second he stared at the scenery in front of him. The corpse, lying there horribly mutilated and around it all the sticky, liquid redness – the facts were obvious: it was a horrible murder. And even though he was sure there would be no fingerprints to secure, no hairs to be found, he knew the murderer exactly.
It was hard for him to see the face of the murderer appear in front of his eyes. The gentle eye, the wrinkles that showed off his age and the jolly, round face were no indication that Iggy, his friend could ever be a murderer. But here he stood and it could have been nobody else than him.
Brutus could not take it anymore. Taking a deep breath, he opened his first mouth and yelled his friend’s name across the room. Iggy came out of the kitchen, waddling over to the table where the police agent sat and looked him in the eye. “What can I do for you, buddy?”, he asked.
Brutus pointed on the scene in front of him. “Bring me another portion of fries, please. I actually like meat, but I didn’t order smashed spider with my lunch!”
How do you draw upside down? Are you looking into a mirror as you draw to make it right-side up?
Pauly never thought about his appearance until he met Jane, the new secretary at his office. He’d always known he needed some corrective work done to his face, but she was the catalyst for change. He decided to fix his teeth first off, and made an appointment to see Dr. Musterbaum, the best orthodontist in town. When he walked through the door, all Musterbaum could think was, “I can finally afford that Maserati!”
Bob ThousandLeg, well-respected man about town, was known around home office as ‘The Eater.’ Restaurant staff trembled at his approach, this man who referred to a buffet as ‘the best value in town.’ Mr. ThousandLeg was Akebono, Grand Champion, of the Global Competitive Eating Championships, and was poised to reign for decades.
The Eater had developed educated culinary tastes in his refined maturity, and,like a good champion, refused to accept defeat. If he couldn’t feast on the succulent flesh of the Goose, he certainly could desert on her Golden Eggs. He grinned a triple grin, and popped the morsel into fourth mouth. Life is good…
You’ve all heard the tale of Jack and the Beanstalk. You know Jack’s sad story but do you know the giant’s? Only a select few know of poor, poor Blunderbore, always in the shadows even when he lives in the sky. However, there is a tale that is even less known. The tale of Jaws, Blunderbore’s pet. Jaws was always treated to anything he wanted to eat. If he could think it up and Blunderbore could cook it, it would soon find its way into Jaws’ stomach. However, there is one ingredient that Blunderbore forbid Jaws to consume. That, of course, were his precious golden eggs. The goose simply did not lay as much as the giant wished so every single one that was laid was Blunderbore’s alone. Jaws knew that his master loved him because they both shared the same taste in food so Jaws was always intrigued as to what the golden egg tasted like that made his otherwise giving master so greedy. Jaws had to find out for himself, so one day, he grabbed one and scurried away with great haste. Blunderbore quickly found out and caught Jaws red-handed.
“Drop the egg Jaws! I forbid you to eat that egg!” Blunderbore bellowed.
With an ever-so-slow speed, Jaws’ many mouths split into a grin as his main mouth began to close in on his fascination/obsession.
Dr. Toothacre was so excited. He had decided to get up an hour earlier than usual to brush his mouths full of teeth and he was going to arrive early at his dental office for the first time ever.
The massive figure shuffled into the theater and thrumped himself down in the first row. The casting director followed the gentleman with a glazed look to his seat. The actor, having said his monologue, waited for a reaction from the director but none came. After that, several nervous attempts for tryouts came and went, with the attention obviously stolen from the director.
The director got up and slowly walked around the perimeter of the fellow, becoming more distressed with every carpet step.
‘Are you here for the audition?’, she squeaked. The massive wall smiled four times and crossed half of his set of legs in a flurry that triggered the mind of a barnacle or crustacean feeding or moving.
‘What role would you like to read for?’
‘audience…’, he replied.
These are all nice and funny great vedio is very stagger she is very good arts all the best keep doing.
It must be hard to decide what pizza toppings you want with 4 mouths.
I love this guy! He’s so weird!