DAILY MONSTER 95 (of 100)



Good morning. Five monsters left to go! Are you still with me? Judging from yesterday's excellent, excellent stories, I'd say the answer is YES. We got an embarrassment of narrative riches from some new voices, from the regular cast, and from a few returning champions. You mustn't miss it:

Storiesabout94

We also got some new fan art from Mr. Yonatan Spivak. Nice work, Yonatan:

Picink3

Monster 95 is doing the Monster Shuffle. Monster 95 is also on the run from someone. Or something. What's going on here? Is he on the lam? Perhaps from the security guard at the shoe store? Or from a monster stalker? And what's he mumbling about? All kinds of mystery surround Monster 95. I hope you'll lift the veil and let us in on some of his secrets:

Postyourstoryhere

At this point, please let me repeat yesterday's message: As you know, there will be a book about this whole series and you can't get into the book if you don't post a story. So if you haven't joined in the fun, this is your chance.

Due to the nature of old school print media, it'll take a few months to get the book produced right. But I would love to keep you informed about the project in the meantime. I'll post news here at the site, of course, but if you like, please send me a message at monsterbook@344design.com and I'll make sure you're the first to get the book when it becomes available. In fact, if you put yourself on the mailing list, I'll send you a custom monster desktop picture---full color and everything!---by the end of the week.

To those of you who had e-mails bouncing back, please try it again today. My webhost chose yesterday to summarily disable all catch-all inboxes to cut down on spam. So very, very helpful... sigh! But everything's working again now. I apologize for the inconvenience.

Please enjoy Monster 95 responsibly
and brace yourselves for the final five creatures!
Now more than ever 344 LOVES YOU

21 Comments

  • 20 February 2007 7:57 am

    Leeps here – long time watcher, first time poster. I love the monsters and it pains me that there are only going to be 100. Definitely understand… just… sad. *sniff* Anyhoot – how are you doing this fluid style of animation as opposed to the earlier stop-motion style? It’s awesome!

  • Inanna
    20 February 2007 8:21 am

    Sneaky Monster! Not letting us see her feet drawn…..and THEN, there were so MANY!
    I guess she assumed if we were kept in the dark (or in the white, i.e. WhiteOut), we wouldn’t notice she was on her way to the fridge again. This is the 140th day of her diet, and she’s lost a total of 3 pounds. Of course, that was when she weighed without her shoes.

  • 20 February 2007 8:33 am

    I like the use of other tools – the straight edge yesterday and the tape today.

  • Chris X
    20 February 2007 9:53 am

    Ninety-Five was a business mogul – he was an inventor and industrialist. It was here that the young Ninety-Five gained many of his ideas that made him triumphant. (Ninety-Five also manufactured coffins during this time.) He dropped out of school at age 14, and ultimately became one of the city’s most significant and notorious figures. He arrived there in 1855 as that city prepared to build the nations first comprehensive sewer system.

  • 20 February 2007 9:54 am

    When I first met Mort, I envisioned him being a truck driver. His beard lay listless without movement on his grease-stained shirt. Something about it, though, intrigued me. When he talked about footraces and cooking, his beard stiffened up as if he had just stuck his tongue into an electrical socket. When he mentioned that he was a champion of both, I could envision him winning a race with all of those legs pumping him along and cooking is a skill that some people have and some people don’t — Mort, I had assumed correctly, did. But when he laid it out and told me that he was the first place champion of doing both at the same time, I was floored. Where he comes from, Mort is skinny and has stared on the cover of many magazines like “Food On-The-Go”, “Eat-n-Run”, and “Fast Food”. It is a worldly treasure to do these two activities at the same time and Mort was number one at it. I told him I needed to go to class, so I shook his tentacle and hopped on the bus to make my way to campus. A mile down the road, I notice Mort running beside the bus (which looks more like a parade of feet stamping underneath him) cooking me an omelet with a big smile on his face.He gave it to me as I exited the bus and not out of breath in the least (due to his races 3 species’ of lungs), he told me “Enjoy!”
    And boy, did I!

  • 20 February 2007 10:03 am

    Boris brought beguiling baratone bravado before to Bela Bartok’s Bagatellen Op.6

  • heather s
    20 February 2007 11:08 am

    “You there! What are you looking at??! Whats the matter with you, never seen a bearded monster before? Eh? EH? Well don’t just stand there gawping, like a loose-jawed mackerel, go get me something to eat. Maybe a big bowl of caterpillars for ol’ 95 eh? But don’t go getting any of those fuzzy ones. The fur sticks in my teeth.”

  • Danielle
    20 February 2007 5:04 pm

    Ernesto was livid! He knew he should have quit working at the orphanage long ago when Little Peter snuck out and almost ran to the police to escape. The brats would always tug on his beard or put marbles on the ground for him to trip on. They’ll know it’s their turn to get a whipping when they could hear Ernesto’s clickity clack from his menacing black boots with the buckles. Now the brats really had it in, when Ernesto put on his sparkling red heels today and discovered the thumbtacks in each one. Once Ernesto’s done with them, their bodies will be so sore that they’ll be crying for Ernesto to let them kiss his feet…

  • monsterfan
    20 February 2007 5:05 pm

    Ladies and gentlemen! May I direct your attention to this consummate performer, the one and only, No-Neck Archie!
    Just returned to the Continental United States from entertaining the crowned heads of Europe, the famed No-Neck Archie is here at this very fairgrounds for one night and one night only. For your pleasure, this industrialist-turned musician-marvel will perform for you on his very own, specially-designed Monster Grand Piano. And yes, he will be playing with his feet! Fantastic to behold! Yet his touch is ever so delicate and beguiling. He will be performing that favorite tune which has been beloved by millions for decades: “Do Re Mi.” And for your special enjoyment, at this show only, Mr. No-Neck will be singing and offering his personally-choreographed dance routine, which he will be performing atop the keys of his Monster Grand.
    This fantastic entertainment can be had for a mere $15 per person. A true bargain in today’s world of computers and gizmos for such an exquisitely crafted and personalized show. Thank you very much, thank you, sir. Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you would be so good as to step inside our tent and begin sampling the excellent performance that Mr. No-Neck will provide.
    What’s that? Oh, pay no attention to those gnashing and chewing sounds, that’s just the lions next door, couldn’t possibly be Mr. No-Neck. Nothing to worry about. Now please, step inside, thank you very much, Mr. Meal–I mean, ahem, Sir.

  • 20 February 2007 7:21 pm

    Carl Philips is on the scene! Carl Philips says, “Good heavens, something’s wriggling out of the shadow like a gray snake!” Carl Philips is shouting: “Now it’s another one, and another one, and another one! They look like tentacles to me. I can see the thing’s body now. It’s large, large as a bear and it glistens like wet leather.” (All this shouting, but 95 either can’t hear him or doesn’t want to; 95 says, “We know a remote farm in Lincolnshire, where Mrs. Buckley lives. Every July, peas grow there.” But then he sees Carl and stops: “You really mean that? Don’t you think you really want to say ‘July’ over the snow?”)
    Carl is talking into his microphone: “That face, it… Ladies and gentlemen, it’s indescribable. I can hardly force myself to keep looking at it, so awful. The mouth is V-shaped with saliva dripping from its rimless lips that seem to quiver and pulsate.” (Did 95 hear this critique of his Habsburg jaw? He says, “There’s no known way of saying an English sentence in which you begin a sentence with ‘in’ and emphasize it. Get me a jury and show me how you can say ‘in July’ and I’ll lose a finger in a correction fluid accident. Impossible! Meaningless!”)
    Carl says, “The thing’s… rising up now. This is the most extraordinary experience, ladies and gentlemen. I can’t find words…” (But 95 has the words; he counters: “Come on, fellas, you’re losing your heads! Now, what is it you want? In your depths of your ignorance, what is it you want? Whatever it is you want, I can’t deliver it because I just don’t see it. This isn’t worth it. No money is worth listening to…” and with that, he bounds out.)
    Strange it now seems to sit in my peaceful study at Princeton writing down this 95th chapter of the record begun at a deserted farm in Grovers Mill. Strange to watch children… playing in the streets. Strange when I recall the time when I first saw it, bright and clean-cut, hard, and silent, under the dawn of that last great day…
    (with apologies)

  • 20 February 2007 9:06 pm

    Centi Pete has grown cautious in his golden years. Life outside of his lakeside cypress stump has evolved quickly and scares him now. What once used to be a simple arthropodal existence is now polluted by neon signs and fast moving cars. Damn kids these days, I tell ya.

  • 20 February 2007 9:26 pm

    His heart was pounding. Hard. Gunther had no idea how long he’d been going. His shoes weren’t made for this sort of activity, lesson learned. He was more suckered by their vibrant red color. New shoes were a weakness. He kept checking over his shoulder. So far, so good, but he knew it wouldn’t last. He knew he wasn’t far enough ahead. That he would be caught soon enough. They would catch up to him, he anticipated it. In some ways, he relied on it. The forethought didn’t subdue his nervousness, however. His lower jaw still sawed back and forth in its characteristic manner. Another check. Still nothing. He kept the pace, but he could feel it slipping. They would come around all too soon.
    Gunther managed to refrain from looking behind himself for some minutes, but the inevitable check ensued. This time, there was, in fact, someone there. Someone who came around the last corner quickly and with purpose. The kind of determination that means business. Gunther’s heart raced even harder. This is what he was simultaneously afraid of and expecting. The adrenaline rushed through him. His pace quickened. He literally leaped instead of ran.
    The push was all he needed. Though his physique didn’t suggest it, Gunther could run like no one else. Perhaps it was his many feet that was the answer to such a bizarre riddle. When properly motivated, he couldn’t be caught. This was one of those moments. The finish was in site now. The runner behind him had provided the motivation to get the lead out. With passion blasted across his face, Gunther crossed the finish line.

  • Stephanie
    20 February 2007 10:21 pm

    Lester loved a lot of things. He loved his toothbrush, his radio, his fancy red shoes. Yes, Lester loved a lot of things. But he loved nothing more then hopscotch. Everyone always thought it was so strange that a monster of his size would love such a childish game. Lester didn’t care what everyone thought, though. He loved hopscotch and that’s all there was to it.
    Some mornings he would get up before dawn, so that he could have two cups of coffee and a few practice hops before he headed off to work. Then on his lunch break he would run around to the back of the building in which he worked, and have a few practice hops back there. He’d hop to the bus stop and he’d hop onto the bus. He’d hop at the grocery store and the post office. He’d hop all the time, just make sure he could still hop.
    Having so many feet sometimes became a huge problem, especially when he was very tired. Sometimes feet numbers 5 and 6 would just stop wanting to hop. He took lots of vitamins and soaked his feet regularly to keep them happy. Sometimes it just wasn’t enough though.
    Last I heard, he was entering the National Hopscotch Championship in Roseburg. I heard he had a good shot at winning the whole darn thing. I guess what they say about practice is true. Everybody cheer for Lester!

  • 20 February 2007 11:59 pm

    “What’s not to love? A serious underbite and patent red leather shoes – lots of them. I don’t understand why I didn’t get the part of Dorothy. Fer cryin’ out loud. They said the character was to be re-interpreted….”
    This one’s a real sexy beast, I gotta say.
    Great fan art, woo!
    And stories, as per usual.
    I forgot to mention yesterday – I really really dearly loved watching all those little squiggles of lines become people throwing shadows. That was really really dearly coo-ell.

  • 20 February 2007 11:59 pm

    “What’s not to love? A serious underbite and patent red leather shoes – lots of them. I don’t understand why I didn’t get the part of Dorothy. Fer cryin’ out loud. They said the character was to be re-interpreted….”
    This one’s a real sexy beast, I gotta say.
    Great fan art, woo!
    And stories, as per usual.
    I forgot to mention yesterday – I really really dearly loved watching all those little squiggles of lines become people throwing shadows. That was really really dearly coo-ell.

  • 21 February 2007 1:35 am

    He know something. What’s more he’s so arrogant, he has no idea you are on to him.
    He’s been seducing Marjorie in the stables for weeks now and he’s convinced her to drug one of the horses in the 1515. He’s moving shiftily away from the betting shop where he’s just bet monster 48’s house on Rooster Booster coming first in the race he believes he’s rigged
    We know what you are up to monster 95. We know.

  • Ted Drizzler
    21 February 2007 3:34 am

    Monster 95 looks like the big guy right? A bloater, a happy eater, an organic dustbin, a greedy gluttonous gloop of a monster who doesn’t know when enough’s enough… christ he’s even got a greedy number of legs.
    But this is just perception. He’s actually the daintiest of eaters, with the appetite of a small woodland bird. He only eats celery, and then only in modest amounts.
    In over 130 years of life (he’s just approaching middle age) he’s only consumed three whole celery sticks.
    and yet he’s a supersize couch potato of a monster.
    life’s very unfair isn’t it?
    it’s written all over his expression – there’s desperation there, there’s pain, there’s hurt…
    and to cap it all he’d much prefer to be clean shaven but his hair grows rampantly the moment he gets within 10 feet of a razor blade.
    it’s not easy being monster 95.

  • jennybee
    21 February 2007 12:49 pm

    This was accidentally posted with Monster 94…but 94 doesn’t feel the pain of 95.
    Monster 95 is completely freaking out. He’s been up for days, hasn’t had a thing to eat, and his mind is playing tricks on him. “Where are my feet? Where are my goddamn feet? I can’t feel my feet!!!”
    Once he realizes his feet have always been there, he just couldn’t see them under his fat, obnoxious belly…the pain from the swelling kicks in. “How long have I been standing here? Mmmm, do I smell bacon?”

  • 21 February 2007 11:10 pm

    Ernest’s schadenfreude* has earned him a nudge from (insert your favorite deity here) to go and apologize, and promptly. Laughing at your best friend who has just grown in his new adult wings and looks dorky trying to aerial maneuver and taking great pleasure in said friend’s misfortunes is very bad form.
    You better mean you’re sorry, Ernest. This is not the time for dissembling.
    *pain-joy in German, and perhaps not used entirely correctly here, but you get the gist.

    yeah, these monsters are way cool with the props and stuff!
    great words everyone!

  • 22 February 2007 9:02 pm

    Herman knew he had a problem, a serious one, but he couldn’t pass up the chance to get another pair. Pay less was having a sale. It didn’t matter if he already had 30 pairs in red already, these were “special”. He stood at the window, salivating, hardly able to remain calm, his feet already dancing.
    The fluorescent lighting inside glowed to bright, Herm could almost hear the slide of the bolt. Rushing past the salesmen he leapt the last few feet to victory and, shoes in hand, celebrated another day of conquest and, sadly, of addiction.

  • Sue Bebie
    13 May 2008 11:36 am

    Frisch geklaut ist halb gewonnen! Sprichts und stöckelt davon.
    Die roten Schuhe machen nicht unbedingt jünger, aber schööööööööööner (und schneller)!!!

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