DAILY MONSTER 180 (of 200)



Good morning. Thank you very much for checking in on the weekend. I hope it's going to be a good one for you! Do you have a few minutes? Because right now some funny stories about Monster 179 are lurking behind this very banner:

179banner

And then there's Monster 180, of course:

180 seems... mutated, a touch evil, a bit Jack-the-Ripperish, and beware... I sense that he got his hands on a postgraduate education. Should he, can he, will he be stopped? And if so, from what, and by whom, and by how? Please don't keep us in suspense! If you can, please...

Postyourstoryhere

I hope you'll join me again tomorrow for Monster 181.
In the meantime, have a great Saturday. If available,
expose some skin to the sun, and maybe enjoy some pastry.
Few are the days that aren't improved by a Danish,
or a chocolate filled croissant. Or maybe a nice muffin.
Also, a Saturday afternoon nap is the best kind of nap.
You know what I'm saying: 344 LOVES YOU

12 Comments

  • 12 April 2008 5:29 am

    So……uh…….I saw those fun looking wheelie shoes that 179 has…..and…..um
    …….I got me some
    Uh…..I’m tryin’ to push…….push…..
    and……uh…..they just won’t move
    Push….push…..awwwwww, this hill is so high…..I’ll never get up to the top
    ..ohhh….um….wheels just won’t work
    ..nuthin’ I ever try turns out fun…Duh

  • sue bebie
    12 April 2008 6:54 am

    Postgradueted education…??
    He is just a curious old one, out of the good old days. He just seems to be evil and a little bit of Jack-the-Ripperish, but in truth he is not. He is the cutest old smiling face monster in town. The best oldest actor alive, teacher of the Crimetime Highschool for seniors. He is doing his homework mostly out in the field, because oxygen is the best for a excellent memory. That’s very important for an old guy like him. That’s the whole reason, why he looks evil. Nobody should stop him. He has to do his exercise in acting. He has to feel like a devilish monster with an angels grin.

  • 12 April 2008 7:10 am

    Igor eased his lab coat on over the mandrills, cautioning them to be quiet. They responded immediately to him, just as they always had. He looked at himself in the polished surfaces of the research lab. Surely no one would notice the hump. Perhaps if he–smiled.

  • Sam B. & Brooke N.
    12 April 2008 9:34 am

    A collaborative work by Sam B. & Brooke N.
    __________________________________________
    Dr. Morbley shuffled closer to the table. Shivering profusely, his patient clutched a paper thin hospital sheet to her chin. She really liked his shoes, she thought, but she feigned ignoring the hunchback. Coming in for an ingrown toenail turned into a week-long stay in the intensive care unit, where she encountered the monstrosity of doctors, machines, and laughably long needles. A saving grace, however, was that Dr. Morbley seemed less green in his bedside manner than most post-postmodern doctors. He played games, brought in snacks, and quickly befriended her. However, of course, he was hiding a terrible secret. As was expected with most post-postmodern doctors, the buck was the bottom line. He earned five hundred dollars for every day he kept her. One day it was strombothyroid shock syndrome, mucormycosis the next. The causes were often made up on the fly, all with long, difficult to pronounce names and diagnoses. The hospital has been filled to capacity for years, keeping the parking lot plentifully filled with Bimmers and Lexi.

  • Sam B. & Brooke N.
    12 April 2008 9:34 am

    A collaborative work by Sam B. & Brooke N.
    __________________________________________
    Dr. Morbley shuffled closer to the table. Shivering profusely, his patient clutched a paper thin hospital sheet to her chin. She really liked his shoes, she thought, but she feigned ignoring the hunchback. Coming in for an ingrown toenail turned into a week-long stay in the intensive care unit, where she encountered the monstrosity of doctors, machines, and laughably long needles. A saving grace, however, was that Dr. Morbley seemed less green in his bedside manner than most post-postmodern doctors. He played games, brought in snacks, and quickly befriended her. However, of course, he was hiding a terrible secret. As was expected with most post-postmodern doctors, the buck was the bottom line. He earned five hundred dollars for every day he kept her. One day it was strombothyroid shock syndrome, mucormycosis the next. The causes were often made up on the fly, all with long, difficult to pronounce names and diagnoses. The hospital has been filled to capacity for years, keeping the parking lot plentifully filled with Bimmers and Lexi.

  • Aiden A.
    12 April 2008 11:45 am

    The best ofensive lineman in town was by far Gabriel Josiah. He could stop anyone from sacking the QB. Too bad the QB was Joey Lamarche. Heck sometimes Joey would trip all by himself. But thats not the point. We’re talking about Gabriel. He was even fast though he didn’t look it with his big ol’ hump. The thing he was best known for however, was the Gabriel Grab. He would pick up Joey and run him all the way to the endzone. No one would be able to tackle him because he was such a huge guy. He is by far the coolest offensive lineman in all of Australia.

  • Andu
    12 April 2008 12:57 pm

    Doctor Victor Apehead walked through the labyrinthine corridors. The neon lamps above him started to tremble a bit, as he was in a hurry. If he wasn’t on time, everything could happen. And ‘everything’ was definitely not a nice thing in that context.
    The sweat ran from his head down his dark cheeks and soaked his hair and coat. He didn’t care, although the feeling made him uncomfortable. The doctor rather forced his feet to walk even faster. The seconds ran in front of him like a crowd of devils, mocking him – “you will come too late”. He actually had wanted to save his powers instead of running. At a corner, he turned into a dark aisle.
    While he jogged down the hallway, the lamps turned on, one after the other. His hands and feet began to wobble. Everything seemed strangely dramatic to him. It was almost like in those horrible action films, shortly before the bomb will explode. Doctor Apehead pushed his hair behind his ears, as if expecting some noise every now and then.
    And still the seconds ran in front, mocking him – “you will come too late.”
    “You will come too late.”
    He wiped the sweat from his forehead and began searching for the keycard to the restricted area. His feet couldn’t walk any faster. He had to do what he actually didn’t want to.
    “You will come too late.”
    As he started running, some drops of hot, sticky sweat collected in the corners of his eyes. He felt awfully. A lamp above him began to flacker as he ran through the elipse of light it created on the steel grey floor.
    “You will come too late.”
    Finally, the door was in sight! He pulled out the keycard. What happened next had been so obvious – his hands were so sweaty that the card slip-slided out of them. His big fingers searched for it on the floor. When he picked it up, he noticed that they trembled like branches in the wind.
    The door slided open without making a sound. Even though this all happened within two or three seconds, it still seemed too slow for the doctor.
    His eyes fell. They fell onto the hole in the door, then in the wall. Everything had happened. His eyelids fell and he himself fell onto his knees. The experiment fled and now, neither manpower nor weapons could ever stop it. It had to be a higher entity that would try to mess with what they had created. They had played god and created a devil. Now he had learned that no one messes with the natural creation without paying. This price would be one for cities, countries, even the whole world to play and that just because…
    He – and everything in this world – had come too late.

  • Fuerte Chamaco
    12 April 2008 2:31 pm

    I had only one cigarette left inside my rolled up sleeve along with the pack of smokes. It has been a tuff week. I can always tell by the amount of cigarettes I had left. I began to wonder what was my obsessions with these monsters. My curiosity brought me here to Mexico where the towns people of Jalisco and Juarez had rumored of seeing these “Peludos.”
    It was late in the afternoon. The sky was a plethora of the most beautiful pinks, oranges, and dark blues. Probably from all the pollution. Just the perfect time for Peludos to come out and play. I walked to a small Farmacia (pharmacy) in the corner of a small unpaved street in downtown Jalisco. There were three old houses next to the pharmacy separated oddly to each other as if someone was supped to build more homes in between one another, or maybe people ran away and too their homes with them?
    I asked the pharmacy attendant, Pancha Del Torro Lopez De la Chopa, why the homes where the way they where? I could tell after asking her, her hand started to shake. “I don no nathin sir. Plees jus teik yur cigarette and go.” With such a long name, I figure she had a story to tell.
    So I left. Ahhhh, fine mexican tobacco. Faros is my brand. As I stood outside of the farmacia leaning against and old century light post, I pulled out my lighter to light a Faro. Suddenly, in the distance, I heard a little girls laugh. I looked around and didn’t see anything. The laughing grew louder and louder. I realized it was coming from one of the three old abandoned homes in the street. But a little girl? At this hour? I decided to investigate.
    I approached the farthest house from the pharmacy. It was a tall two story home made out of brick. The windows had been covered by cardboard with produce logos stamped on them. No vegetation, just dirt, and in the dirt where foot prints. 2 sets. One set of footprints seemed like a young child’s mark. The other however, were quite peculiar. They strange ripples in the heel and the source must have had huge feet.
    I went inside this dark desolate place with the laughing fading away in the air in front of me as if they knew I was there. I flicked a match to get some light when two huge bolts of light starred directly at me. These where no lights! Like a huge shadow swallowing space, a Peludo stood up from the shadows and smiled. I reached for my camera as fast as I could when I heard..
    “Pleese sir, he’s not leik di aders. He’s guud.”
    But he looked so evil to me! His glance showed a history of violence. As the Peludo approached me with the girl from the pharmacy by his side I realized he had orthopedic shoes. His back was hunched over. It was clear now, that this presumed history of violence was not the creatures character, but his painful past. Someone had hurt him. I began to gather my thoughts as my gaze and the Peludos gaze came closer and closer to each other as if romantically exploring each others thoughts…
    BLACK!
    I then woke up inside an old water trough with a pulsating headache and a well prepared bloody mary next to me. What happened? Had I dreamt the whole thing, or did I have a long night at the Chivo Blanco Cantina and had not remembered a thing. But it felt so real!? I climbed outside the trough to pick up my bloody mary someone had left for me on the drit ground when I noticed those footprints. It was no dream my friends! I’ll never forget my encounter with what I called “Chamuco Chueco”.

  • Ivy
    12 April 2008 2:35 pm

    Monster 180 looks happy but he also has that evil look. I enjoy monster 180.

  • Stacy Rausch
    14 April 2008 6:47 am

    I think this is one of my favorite monsters in awhile… also, everyone who submitted stories – YOU ROCK! – I am not even going to bother trying to come up with something.

  • GristleBean
    15 April 2008 8:57 pm

    Fembry Dorgonyak is the heavy-handed go-to guy of the R&D team of Botulism & Botulism. Why a legal team would need an R&D department, well… that’s another sordid story.
    Fembry was hand-picked by the legal team from Sister Leechetta’s Freelance Convent/ Orphanage For Wayward and Potential Orphans, then a entrepreneurship comprised mostly of seaweed and cursewords.
    He had hobbies then. Forcibly plucking dolls from children, the occaisional gluing of pet’s hind feet to various mobile things…
    The years and business partnership have treated Fembry well. He’s learned skills that have made him invaluable in his field. He’s mastered the subtle nuances of coercion to the point that, humbly, people beat themselves up rather than do him injustice.
    And yet, the job of gopher to such a lawfirm is never beneath him. He makes a darn good cup of coffee, his coworkers brag.
    ‘It’s the kitten’, he admits.

  • 16 April 2008 1:54 pm

    He’d been working the door for more than 3 years now. He could bring you into the club, and he could absolutely take you out of it. No one questioned his authority; the sheer size of Johnny was enough to intimidate. And those eyebrows… wow. Sporting his favorite pair of Army-issue boots, he was a fixture of the entrance to one of the hottest spots in town: La Passion.
    For three years, Johnny manned the door to La Passion and for three years he loathed every minute of it. Every night, new patrons would come seeking his acceptance to be let in and, more often than not, he’d admit them. Every night, excited couples would pour into the joint to dance the night away. Every night, Johnny would patiently push through the evening until closing; his moment to be “free.” The doors would close at 2:30 am – him being the last one to lock up – and Johnny would make his way up to the DJ booth. A few tracks would be selected and set up with care just before he made his way back to the floor.
    Johnny was one of the best dancers around, but there was no money in it for someone with his looks. There was tons in being a bouncer, however. He truly was in control of all his muscular limbs. Patrick Swayze got nothing on Johnny.

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