DAILY MONSTER 41
Good morning. Thank you for checking in. I hope you’re sailing on clear, smooth waters in between the years.
You guys posted another batch of cool stories yesterday. Nice work!
Monster 40 moved Mogabog to poetry. Thank you for the pretty verse, sir, but I didn’t recognize the meter: 4-8-3-7-4? I thought it might be a decreasing sequence, but that would’ve been 4-8-3-7-2-6. Will you fill the hole in my education, please?
Victoria introduces us to the Man from Hoffnungsfunke, which actually means “spark of hope,” if I remember correctly. Very nice! Thank you, Victoria. Your story actually meshes very nicely with Amy’s. Amy knows that Monster 40 has been training to compete in the ski jump for more than 144 years. That’s dedication! Impressive!
Schlockading has another take: We’re witnessing a demonstration of the 140-SW Skiliner™ personal aircraft—a nifty device that comes with some serious disclaimers! Still, though… risk, shmisk! Who wouldn’t want one of these swift and sleek flyers? Very cool idea, Schlockading!
Stephanie chimes in with rhyme and a poignant comment on the state of our health care system, while Sam B. shows us the benefits of a balanced diet, citing the example of young Valborg. Very nice!
Monster 41 is a dandy one. Just look at the well-tailored sweater and the snazzy pinstripe pants. And 41 knows how to move? Is he a dancer? A racer? A percussionist? Or a grape stomper? And what’s with his face? Does he have a great, big laugh? Or a marvelous moustache? A giant nose and beard? What is his story? I can’t wait to find out from you! Because you always have the scoop! And you’re always nice enough to share it with the whole class! You’re so cool! 344 LOVES YOU
The meter or my poem? Parking I guess.
Am I am monster?
I remember the time in my life when I realized I was an animal. I’m no cat, but I have the same needs; eat, sleep, companionship, etc. That thought made the world make sense a little bit during those young, heady, idealistic times.
Now I’m older, the world is more complex, a little more weird. I don’t search for meaning so much as a touchstone in our modern world – spirituality through a LCD.
So I ask again. Am I a monster?
I like monsters. I watch monsters every day. The monsters do what I do… you know eyes lights up, march my feet… um, and other stuff. But maybe monsters are just entertainment and I’m just a human. But wait! There are others who do the same – they watch the monsters every day, they even read this blog and read my words without reply. Surely they are the monsters! (Unless they click the ad at the end to help Stefan, then they are cool.) So I must not be a monster.
What is my point here? Something about cats, parking meters, clicking the ads and shaming people into writing.
Well, she is a dancer, from the Folies Bergères, in the days of the Belle Époque. She is so happy you revived her. Since she has just been waken up, her hair is a little dishevelled. But wait until she starts dancing! With 4 legs that definitely can be lenghtened up, the spectacle will be magnificent!
Poor Phortie Won – a victim of the Monsterville Prison. What has he done wrong? Well, it seems that he was part of a certain dancing organization – MITS (Monsters in Tap Shoes) – and was giving a performance. Suddenly, someone fired a .38 in the audience striking one of Phortie’s co-dancers. Outraged, Phortie Won took his own gun and shot the assailant, killing him. Phortie Won was quickly arrested and stuck in jail. Maybe he’ll be getting out soon. He’s still dancing around in his cell!
“I see it…” replied Toichido. He breathed deep and held it. The beast in his sites. With both eyes open, he gently squeezed the trigger. The shot was muffled and sliced through the air without resistance. The animal twitched an ear in the direction of the shot, but was too late to respond. The searing pain that drilled just behind its ear yielded a futile bleat to worn the others. Collapsing to the ground with the head flopping forward, its eyes were frozen in dilated surprise.
Toichido and Mei ran towards the kill to survey the beast. Mei bent down and took notice of the number tagged to its chest. “This isn’t the one,” came her solemn statement. Toichido gazed into the thickets, hoping to catch a glimpse of tracking their intended prey. He bent down towards the ground and touched the grass, examining the earth beneath his fingers. “There was definitely more here before we showed up to drop this one.”
Mei looked up at her older brother as she raised to her feet. “Why can’t this one work? They’re the same, aren’t they? Close enough at least.”
Toichido put a hand on his sister’s shoulder and replied, “No. I’m sorry, Mei, but we have to find 41. That’s the one father told us has the blood match. We have to trust it’s the only way. Just be glad those ‘wings’ don’t really work or we’d never catch it.”
“But… didn’t father create them? If he bred them, can’t he just make another that’s the same? I’m tired and we’ve been searching for days.” Mei unwrapped a small pouch to eat at some rice.
“Ya. He bred them. But apparently they have thousands of blood variations. Without 41, we have no hope of restoring mother. It’s the only one father says a serum can be made from. We’ll keep hunting. To tell you the truth… after all these years, I’d rather just kill them all.”
Toichido gave a weary smile to Mei and she blinked innocently back. It would be 3 more days before they caught up with 41, but they bagged him. When they returned home, their father quickly made up the serum. After administering it to his wife, her color returned and her skin seemed to tighten up. She looked years younger. “There you go. You should be good for another 30 years or so,” remarked father.
“Thank you, dear. You know, your 150th birthday is coming up. You should determine which of those darling creatures is up for your rejuvenation serum. And we should really tell the kids to be more careful about killing off the wrong ones. It’s such a waste.”
It’s hard to tell with #41, who could be doing the happy dance or the pee-pee dance. The expression doesn’t vary much for either. One thing is for sure, s/he is ecSTATIC. Lookit that facial explosion! Positively plugged in! And another thing is for certain: #41 is wary of online dictionaries, which often lead to bungled wordsmithing. #41 is wary of words and script in general. Once #41 tried to explain the concept of ‘heroes’ to a friend whose native language is not english. #41 wrote the word out but in haste added a slight leg to the ‘o’, transforming the word into ‘herpes’ and it wasn’t until much later, when his friend had finally mastered proficiency in english, did he realize what a twist in education he’d given.
Anyway. I love this one! I was totally tickled by the animated ending! This morning was my early to work day – I ran out of time and had to wait allll day to watch it when I got home just a bit ago. Then for some reason the video wouldn’t load. Undaunted, I went to Revver and found your video there and watched. And I love the other stories you all are coming up with. It’s getting positively labyrinthian in here.
Obviously, number 41 is a HUGE madonna fan because her song “Dress you up” is starting just as the camera stops rolling. That was the point when number 41 started to cut some serious rug.
In the vid we can see, she’s warming up. Doing some marching in place to warm up her little leg muscles. What we don’t see, because the vid stops a bit early, is that her little wings are actually extremely powerful and she flies around with them – but only when madonna is on the stereo and only to assist her dancing.
yes, I am a madonna freak – I admit it. those two sounds we hear at the end of the video are almost exactly the same two sounds that start that oldie but goodie, Dress You Up.
This is the revered inspector number 41. His nametag graces the likes of leather gloves, socks, and sometimes shoes. Starting as inspector 344, he has worked his way up the corporate ladder. Soon, he will be number 1, and things will really start happening for him.
“Oh no, that’s a common misconception”…”Yes, you see, you are mistaken. Filled with propaganda about the number 42 being the meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything. And I’ll have you know that rat-bastard #42 has been none to quick about clearing up the confusion either”… *grumbles incomprehensibly* … “Why, I should whap him upside the head I should!” *nods* “Get some sense into that miscreant. It should be ME, #41, in the limelight! Me, the evolution of pure DNA, the epitome of the biological struggle. Carbon perfection incarnate. Look I can even do this neat little jig!”
Thanks again for the extra little Christmas Joy your spread in our household 🙂
Good call, Scott! Carbon perfection incarnate, indeed! Nice work! Thank you for posting!
These comments have been invaluable to me as is this whole site. I thank you for your comment.
Fräulein Veronika, Insassin des einzigen landesweiten Frauengefängnisses für über 90-Jährige, schreit laut auf, in Ihrer Verzweiflung über das in der mittäglichen Monsterbrühe untergetauchte Gebiss.
Das wäre eigentlich alles halb so wild, denn zu beissen gibt’s eh nie was Vernünftiges.
Wenn da nur nicht der wilde Ewald wäre, Insasse des einzigen Männergefängnisses für über 90-Jährige.
In heisser Liebe entflammt, mindestens den fünften Frühling spürend, hat sich Fräulein Veronika in ihre neuen Freigang-Beinlinge geschmissen. Nur wem nutzt’s?
Ohne Gebiss, kein steiler Zahn!