DAILY MONSTER 100 (of 100)
Good morning. Thank you for being here for the big finale—Number 100—The last of the Daily Monsters. But before we get to that, let me direct you towards yesterday’s amazing stories. Everybody’s just kicking ass on these last few creatures. It’s such a pleasure to see such great posts from all of you—new contributors, monster stalwarts, and returning champions alike. Please take some time to read the entries. They’re worth your time:
We also got some cool fan art from Érico Lebedenco of Brazil
and the first entry in the Make Your Own Monster series from long-time monster contributor Sam B.
This new line of monsters was suggested by Charlotte Saylor: You post one of the inkblots in a downloadable file that people could print and draw the monster they envision. No argument here. You can download the first ink blot here, print it out, manipulate it on the computer, draw on it, animate it, make it into a piece of sculpture. Let the monsters come out any way they come to you. Have fun! (And when you’re done, send me a file and I’ll post a little gallery for each blot here on the site once a week.)
Now… please meet Monster 100. I hope you’ll like it. I made it especially for you. It’s got a few little surprises up its sleeve, not the least of which is a sweet little Monster Coda composed and performed on the viola especially for the occasion by frequent monster contributor Logan Hasson.
I started this project on November 19th as a way to pass the time while a few publishers were mulling over a book I had proposed to them — just a little something to keep my mind off of things. I thought that some of my friends might enjoy it and check in every once in a while, but within a few days I was getting lovely comments from all of you.
You started naming the monsters, SpeakUp and Ze Frank linked to the site, around Monster 11 the first little monster stories started appearing, and on December 07, 2006 at 01:47a.m. here be simon posted his first epic (for Monster 19), paving the way for what has become a mid-boggling collection of stories. (I can’t wait to read them all again to put together the book. I already have plans to graph out everybody’s posts over time… but I’m getting ahead of myself.)
Since then, I’ve been looking forward to a fresh batch of stories every morning and you’ve never let me down. It has been an entirely unexpected pleasure. I never saw it coming and I can never thank you enough for the truly lovely experience you’ve given me over the past 100 days. It’s been an absolute delight to meet all of you and I hope the monsters will bring you as much good luck as they’ve brought me.
One last time, I will ask you, please:
I will keep posting, of course, and there will be plenty of news on the book and on some new 344 goodies in the days to come. All of you who’ve asked about the original drawings and about prints and T-shirts, please make sure to check in every now and again. Or put yourself on the mailing list and I will send you the news when it happens. And of course, the Weekly Monster will make its first appearance in April.
If you’d like to hear me talk about the monster project, the two monster books, and some new 344 projects, check in on Von Glitschka’s Illustrative Designer Podcast. We did the interview on Day 70, but it just went live today, so it’s a bit of a time capsule.
For now, I hope that you’ve enjoyed yourself with the Monsters and that,
even in their absence, you’ll remember that 344 LOVES YOU
William told his timeless tale
as varied monsters did prevail.
A final birth did give us he
to spur us on to creativity.
– – –
Thanks Stefan, it’s been fun. All the best.
Awwww…..a baby 101 to tell us that Monster Life goes on….
I have to do something fun, or I’ll feel too sad. (It’s that sad music)
*singing*
A hundred monsters of blown ink on the wall, A hundred monsters of blown ink; if one of those monsters should happen to fall, 99 monsters of blown ink on the wall.
(Repeat until you can’t stand it anymore)
*waving to 100* Monsters, we hardly knew ye
Charlie had the best job in the world. Every night he would walk on stage to the cheers of thousands of adoring fans. He realized they weren’t here just to see him, and he was fine with that. It was the artist, they came to see. Every night, it was something new, something special, something exciting. It was magic, and the people knew it.
Each night Charlie would walk on stage, raise his hands to quiet the audience, and then in his loudest voice shout out, “Hello, World! ” The people would scream and he’d ask, “Are you ready? Because 344 Loves You!”
The lights would dim, there would a splash of color, and the magic would begin. Charlie would walk back stage smiling, having done his part and head to the all-you-can-eat buffet set up in the green room.
With a plate in hand Charlie would watch from the side, marvelling at the magic being created on stage. Occasionally, he was needed and he would rush out quickly to hand the artist a towel or a water or adjust the camera, then return back to the shadows.
But Charlie didn’t mind. Every night Charlie would learn something new, and last night at the show Charlie learned the most important thing of all. Maybe it was fitting that he learned it then because it was the very last show, the tour was ending. But endings and beginnings go together. You can’t have one without the other. So as the artist’s tour was ending, Charlie’s life was just beginning and in a way he hadn’t expected.
Charlie found out that he was really Charlene. Monsters can be so unpredictable.
Reaching for a second helping of potato salad, Charlie gave birth. It seemed that there was magic in places Charlie had least expected.
Charlie/Charlene knew exactly what he/she had to do. After the artist had left the stage, she walked out, as she had done every night before, but this time she had a gift. She offered the audience her child. She was confident that they would know how to care for it. They would feed it and watch it grow, spreading its magic to hundreds of places they least expected.
Charlene smiled and reached for the microphone. “Thank you, everybody, and goodnight. 344 loves you. 344 has left the building.”
I whish it was 1000 monsters.
We’ll miss you.
Thanks Stefan. 🙂
Hahaha…my brazilian monster is there! 😀
And hey…a monster’s egg…I think the birth of the first Weekly Monster will be very special!
Good luck in all!
Graham Naderling never was sure what he was going to do with himself. He felt out of place, too big for his own world. If only he could have some more space, maybe jump out he would be ok.
Alas, he lived his life in quiet, confident solitude. Knowing one day things would be better.
And then the day the second sheet came, and the hand came to take him home.
Now he has so much space he doesn’t even live day by day, but week by week.
Thanks Stefan.
i got hold of this fragment from the ashes of a house fire that occured earlier this morning in one of the poorer districts of mosnter city. nothing else has been discovered at this time. the cause of the fire is unknown but police suspect it may have been arson. anyway here’s the fragment. i can’t vouch for it’s authencitiy or accuracy.
Monster 96’s Diary
Diary entry 25th feb 2007
“… and what. we’re all supposed to clap and applaud 100! Why, because he cheated and lied his way into the top spot? because his taste in polo sweaters is supposed to make us feel it’s time we went shopping? because he laid an egg? don’t get me started on the egg… what egg? what proof do we have that that is an egg? it didn’t hatch. ok, it rocked. it rocked a bit. big deal. big monster deal. that’s not an egg. and it’s not 100’s. how do i know? because me and 100 tried for a hatchling for years. nothing happened people. nothing. we had tests… and it was him. he was infertiile.
so come on 100 prove it. you think you’re all that with your top spot, special colouful background to your number nonsense…. well let me tell you something. you might have put one over the creator but you’re not fooling me kiddo. I’m here to rain on your parade. monsters listen up. 100 is a fake. a fake. a fake”
and that was all there was.
it’s sad.
for my money i don’t know 100. looks like a fun guy. looks like a fun egg. 96 was always bitter and made few friends. you decide…
So often when we hear the word monster, we think of the dark ones; those that hide under the bed, or lurk in the shadows, or perhaps, those who creep into our ear at night to suck on our brain – the numbskullians. Or some other unsavoury character who relishes in giving monsters a bad name.
But not all monsters are like that. Monster 100, most certainly isn’t. For this is Gavin. A monster with a tragic tale.
Gavin had always followed his own path. And if that meant people laughed at him for wearing over-sized knitwear, then that was just fine with him. After all, a laugh was a laugh and the world a better place for hearing it.
He had a fear of the dentist, which some people thought irrational, but Gavin would just say, what’ s irrational about being scared of a masked man sticking sharp objects into your mouth –and as always he had a point.
He also had one of the lousiest music collection known to monsterdom – for I kid you not when I say it consisted of ELO, Kate Bush, AND Barry Manilow.
His gift was to leave you happier for meeting him. But the cost of such a gift was to never find someone to share his life with. Oh, he had girlfriends, had even married and had a beautiful daughter called Beatrice, but he’d lived his life without meeting his soul mate. Until last year when he met a beautiful female monster.
The next few months were the happiest of Gavin’s life, but they weren’t to last. One day, out of the blue he was snatched away.
Not much of a story perhaps, but it’s Gavin’s story none the less.
Sometimes, when one monster is missing, the whole world seems empty.
Thank you for the monsters, Stefan.
Ladies and gentlemen, it is a touching scene here at 344 as Elmer N’Chidway, originally born of a freak accident between a dish towel and a dog food bowl, comes to you now as the official Ambassador for all of Stefan G. Bucher’s 100 Monsters. He bids us a fond, sad, but heartfelt farewell and is lovingly escorted from the scene by Mr. Bucher himself.
But what’s this? Ambassador N’Chidway has left behind an egg, a pod, a seed, or some sort of offspring. Could we be looking at the next generation of monsters? We have assembled a team of our most expert monsterologists to speculate:
Dr. Wilberforce Snodgrass (see Monster 55): Clearly this egg is that of the Canistentacula monster — a.k.a. Dogface With Tentacles. This monster will hatch in a mere six weeks and will require a steady diet of squid and chicken bones.
Dr. Hank Flapper, specialist in winged monsters: Yup, that’s an egg, all right. But no Dogface Monster ever hatched from an egg, that’s for sure. No, this one’s going to be a Pteradonster, a flying reptile monster with a long, skinny tongue that it uses to zap its prey from as high as 25 feet in the air. This ain’t no monster to fool around with, no sir. You ought to get together a team of folks to keep a sharp eye on that egg so’s to catch that Pteradonster as soon as it hatches.
Dr. Mildred Quince, monsterbotanologist: Heavens, it’s not an egg, it is a seed pod, or more correctly, a spore from the very rare Mushroomibilius. This is a monster that lives deep in the Russian tundra. Though it never grows taller than six inches, it can achieve diameters of up to two miles. It reproduces by releasing spores just like this one, which are fertilized when they land in pools of water that contain human dandruff. The only reason the Mushroomibilius are not more widespread is that they require great tracts of land in order to thrive, and such expanses are getting less and less common.
Dr. John Chin, supermonsterologist: I have studied this artifact at great length and I am thoroughly puzzled. It meets some but not all of the criteria to be an egg, or a seed pod, or a spore, or any type of monster life. The only conclusion that my data forces me to reach is that this is, in fact, Stefan G. Bucher’s brain, in Sharpie form.
There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. The dispute will rage on in the monsterologist community about the exact identity of the item left behind by Ambassador N’Chidway. In the meantime, we are left to marvel at the monster community and all the contributions they make — and the things of ours that they eat.
Until next time, I am your ever-intrepid reporter, Howard Talksalot, signing off.
Like many Monsters before him, Homer always wanted to go to Los Angeles. Coming out of a small town in Oregon, he dreamt of a city life ever since he felt big enough to reach out for the stars. He noticed early on that he was somehow different from the other kids.
After many years of practicing, Homer finally passed through the gates of Hollywood. A good friend got him a job as mice advisor for Tom of “Tom and Jerry” fame. And it worked out great for many years.
Unfortunately, his growth didn’t seem to stop. And one day he was too big to fit into a mouse-hole. With a heavy heart, the producer had to fire him. Being a good man, he gave Homer a job as security inspector of this big “movie power plant”. Homer saw the opportunity to learn from all the different sets and shows. He hoped that his knowledge might be useful to somebody.
During the recording of one show, he had to hold back the crowd in front of the studio when suddenly one of the fans passed out. Due to Homer’s appearance, people didn’t dare to trample all over her and cleared a passage for the emergency team. Homer went many times to the hospital where this fan Marge was recovering. The chemistry was right — Marge was somehow “not from this world”, as well — and they became a happy couple.
After going out for a while, Marge noticed that Homer gained some weight even though he was on a diet. She suspected an affair with a beautiful doughnut baker and left him. Two hours later, his labor pains started. It was very sad as both didn’t know that in their species, it was the men who laid the eggs and died right thereafter.
Homer was very woeful to leave his only child when he saw the hand of God, coming to take him to blot heaven. He let his life flash by, so his son would inherit all the wisdom he gained and turn it into something bigger one day.
It took Matt exactly 344 days before he hatched from the egg. Coming to this world in Hollywood, he somehow managed to start where his father left off. Being touched by all the memories his dad transfered to him, he decided to make the inhabitants of this planet happy by showing them, how funny life can be. He created a show just for this purpose and named the characters after his parents.
His TV show “The Simpsons” still brings joy and happiness to millions of people every day, which was Matt “344” Groening’s biggest achievment.
And that’s why this old saying known to children all over the world goes: “344 loves you!”
Just wanted to say thank you for the great movies you made. I didnt watch them all but most of them. You are very talented, big compliment 😉
Ok – the following story is long, I know, but I trust it to be worth it. Separate from that, I’m making this post as a whole-hearted “Thank You!!!” to Stefan for creating all these monsters. And an equally elated one to all the contributors/posters to the Daily Monster with your amazing stories and incredible creativity.
I have no idea why it took me some 20 days, after finding this site, before I posted my first story. I am so glad I did. To be a part of this kind of community is inspiring, as well as a great personal motivator.
These stories have been a wonderful read. Stefan – there are really not enough words, in any language, to express my gratitude for these daily escapes.
And now – 100.
The First Time
—
A voice from nowhere speaks loudly, but with a gentle calmness. “Where are you?”
A lone figure, sitting in a grassy field, looks about confused but not frightened. He scans his surroundings looking for the source of the voice. Eventually responding, unintimidated. “In a field.” The dialogue begins.
What do you see? — Grass. — What else do you see? — A desk. — Where is the desk? — I’m sitting at it. — Why are you sitting there? — I was looking through a book. — What book? — I don’t know. There’s nothing in it. Just blank pages. — There is nothing on the cover of the book? — No. It, too, is blank. — How long have you been looking at the book? — I don’t know. I don’t know how long I have been here. Wherever ‘here’ is. — Close the book. — OK.
—
The Second Time
—
The individual is standing in the field holding a book tight to his chest. A voice from nowhere begins a conversation.
Where are you? — Standing in the field. — What are you doing? — Looking at a book. — What book? — The one I am holding. — What is the book about? — Creatures. Beings. Monsters. — What does it say about them? — Nothing. It’s just picture after picture of them. — Did you draw them? — Yes. Yes, I think I did. — How? — I thought about them. They appeared in my head and then on the pages. — How many pages? — A hundred. — Close the book. — OK.
—
The Third Time
—
A lone figure, carrying a small book, stands in a grassy field. Staring off into the horizon. Without warning, a low, steady voice announces from somewhere. It’s the same question. “Where are you?”
“I’m in a field. A grassy field. The same field I have been in for days. Months, even. There is nothing new. Nothing different. Well… the desk is gone – but that’s because I have since left the area it was in and do not know where I am now in relation to it. This field is enormous. Without end. There is nothing here but the grass, me and this book.” He is clearly tired, but not necessarily angry. The voice replies, “There is no one else there?” Nothing else there?” Confused, the man quickly responds, “No.”
After a few silent moments, something appears on the horizon. Floating a few meters above where the grass meets the sky’s never ending reach. As the object comes closer, he can make out a familiar shape. A bird. Not just any ordinary bird. This bird is very familiar to him. A realization comes to him and he immediately flips open the book to the first page. There it is. The odd image stares back at him from the page whence he drew it. When it finally reaches his position in the field, he can clearly see that it is, in fact, the very bird he created in the book. Its long, toucan-style, amber beak chattering sounds of delight as it struggles against the weight of its enormous shoes to maintain flight. The man is completely in awe at seeing such a thing floating in front of him. Thousands of questions begin to form in his mind. Before he has a chance to vocalize any of them, however, another shape appears on the landscape. And another. Soon the horizon is dotted with unknown specters and forms.
And one by one, they converge on the man in the grassy field. And one by one, they are identified by him from a page in the book. A walrus-looking beast sporting a shredded necktie to his left. On his right, a briefcase-toting rollerblader next to a large, hairy mouthed juggernaut. Over to the left, a single branch sprouted from the earth to provide a perch for a banana-beaked, spindly-legged bird. Amongst the crowd of monsters approached another, walking directly toward him. A tiny frame ambling before him with a smile that showed jagged teeth and lipped with several whiskers. A thick turtleneck draped its body as it made its way to the man in the grassy field. He recognized this figure right away as the last one drawn in the book. An exact copy, down to the tiniest detail.
It stopped in front of him and gave a very pleased smile as it squatted down, the sweater hiding its feet. A little dance ensued and before long, it rose up and gave another happy grin with squinted eyes. Something was visible below it. The man extended his hand for the diminutive figure to hop onto his hand. When he slid his hand back, he could see a small egg sitting upright on the ground. He prodded the egg, but it only bounced excitedly. Returning his attention to the horde surrounding him, he asked out loud, “Where did they come from?”
The voice replied, “Each one was asked the same question you were, ‘Where are you?’ and each one replied the same, ‘In a dark place. Lonely and lost.’ Within a day of asking the question, they answered the same as you the second time, ‘In a grassy field.” Each day, for a hundred days, a new creature would come into being. Each day, for a hundred days, each one would answer the same both times asked. They came from you by printing them in that book.”
Stunned, the man gazed at the group and then back at the egg. He flipped through page after page and could not find anything remotely like it. All the other monsters were exact replicas of his illustrations, except this egg. This egg was new. This egg wasn’t his.
What of the egg? — The egg is the future. — I didn’t draw the future. — No one can. — What’s inside? — No one knows. — I’m ready. — Close the book. — OK.
I got nuttin for you. I’m completely moved by the fact that 100 is so poignant! He completely expresses how I feel about coming to the end of this long journey via 99 crazy inspired creatures! He is waving goodbye from the deck of a Carnival ship, a lot elated, a little sad. Of course, no one leaves The Love Boat without some kind of souvenir. Now, thankfully, 100’s offspring belongs to us.
Thank you, Stefan. To a writer, there’s no better gift than a daily inspiration like yours.
I sat here for a few minutes, reading through everyone’s posts with full intention of writing a story for the last of the monsters, then I came to Terry T’s story…
There are tears running down my cheeks. My daughter is crying. The guys here are moved as well.
There are no words. There is no story in my mind. There is no way that I could top that nor would I try. There are only two words now…
Thank you.
Stephan,
What a great Monster family you created! Congratulations for number 100. Congratulations for the original idea. I’m sure they’ll stay around the blogosphere forever…. cute cute little Monsters. : )
Kind Regards.
Luc.
I have a little book of inspiration. Daily Monsters in on page 11 and the corner is bent and worn.
Thank you.
Thank you for this project, this experiment. What a great concept, provide the monster and the stories will follow.
Terry T is my husband. His passion for writing these stories has been very moving.
Once again, thank you.
Bixby William, the lonely man, treats us to a lovely thumbs up. His pensive promulgation of our precious daily monster was par for the course. He’s left us a treat too, a giddy little monstegglet. You see in his world, much the same as with seahorses, the male is the one to hatch the young. Good Bixby has given us a lovely cliffhanger ending to keep us hungry for more monster goodness. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for us next week.
—-
Seriously great stories and sentiment for number 100. Although I’m sad to see the daily monster go by the wayside, I know the weekly monster will fill in the void.
Thank you for offering us such wonderfully creative fodder for the last hundred days Stefan. It’s been terribly fun.
Monsters, as we all know, are a very rare sight to behold. Their population, while not yet small enough to be classified as “endangered” is on the decline. The very rare glimpses that are afforded the lucky human are few and far between, and the idea of encountering one every day is extraordinarily far fetched. Yet, somehow, the last few months have proved miraculous, and we lucky few have seen one hundred of these rarities. They are a sight to behold, indeed! While it is has been fun to view monster after monster, we all knew it would only be a matter of time before we had seen them all. One hundred days later, and the fears of many have been realized! There is, however, hope! The birth of a new monster brings with it the promise of a grand future. The monster population as we now know it will grow at a rate of one monster per week. How exciting this is! While an era of daily monster sightings has come to a close, we humans know that it won’t be long before the next one makes an appearance.
We shall be waiting, little one.
Wow.
I’ll tell you the story of my three minutes with the last daily monster:
(well first, I read through Stefan’s post and I’m still glad to know that you’ll continue journaling/blogging! And then I feasted on the terrific fan art by Erico…and Sam B’s inkblot rendition is awesome!!)
I kneaded some putty as physical therapy for my wrist, which I broke in a few places last year over Thanksgiving. I’m usually brushing my teeth or doing PT while I watch the monster and read all of your fantastic stories. Actually I was kneading AND brushing tonight.
I paused the monster just as Stefan blew that first swath of ink (which is always so cool and exciting) – so I could spit out the froth of toothpaste that was getting out of control. I was feeling jazzed about the ka-pow 100 with red! (I watched SchoolHouse Rocks as a kid and the numbers with the red radiating is such a good reminiscer)
More teeth! YESSSSS! I love those kind of teeth especially. They’re so…teethy.
When you drew off the page, Stefan, I liked that too because it’s such a spontaneous thing. If you’d planned out the monster ahead of time, you would’ve left yourself plenty of room on one page. That you taped two together tells us that you’ve retained the original spirit of play and spontenaeity even for The Big One Hundredth.
Here your hands were more in view and for a longer period of time while you drew and pasted the pages together. That was cool. And a nice preamble..or foreshadowing.
I started crying when that beautiful music began and the monster became animated. I don’t think I’ll even try to describe it too much. I don’t feel sad. I feel happy – it is so sweet and poignant! What a wonderful duet and the animation is just perfect. All of the monsters have personality, but this little one and the soon-to-be-born one…really shine.
I think I just feel so appreciative of this thing called life and how we are all expressing into-through it or something like that.
I have really enjoyed reading all of your stories. Thank you everyone. You are all by turns delightful, irreverent, clever and funny. I like to think of everyone else sitting at their computers and watching the monsters, and then writing about them.
Stefan, I’m glad you’re on the planet. Thanks for paving an avenue for us all to meet here. And for keeping it alive despite all sorts of technical difficulties and really late nights.
Hooray for us! On with the show!!
I’ve news for Ted Drizzler and the news does not make me proud.
It was me who torched 96’s house and, following this post, I shall be turning myself into the police. I’m not proud of it. It was the money I needed and, my goodness, monster 100 had money to throw around. He wanted rid of 96. Wanted rid of that diary. He’d bribed just about every other monster so he could take top spot. But 96 couldn’t be bought. The only monster with morals needed to be erased.
100 offered me 100 big ones to destroy 96 and that darn diary. Now you Ted unearth a fragment. Might I suggest you rid yourself of it (and your post) – today. If I could be bought then so could others and I fear for you and all those at Marrish house if 100 gets wind of this.
The egg? 100 mentioned the word ‘legacy’. But then he was gone.
Thanks a lot for entertaining us. This is one of the most unique weblogs I have ever read, the monsters are great and the stories behind as well.
Rock on.
Oh wow.
It’s been 100 days/monsters…
I can’t wait until the book comes out, and as always, thank you for sharing/inspiring. You really are such a genius…
stefan, keeps on rockin’! 🙂
Arthur says hello and thanks for the monsters. And he wants to know when we’ll have another book to read.
Good work Stefan. Really good work.
The mother is so blessed to give her birth. She is following the trend of her ancestors. She leaves her young.
This is cyclical.
Much dispute over the traditional manner in which the mother leaves her young to hatch and then live on her own. They call this species to arms. The species has only its history. The species is a tradition and a tradition of traditions.
We change with our language.
The species began as a transient group, wafting from one page to another, flipping and giddy with life. Like the evolving game of telephone, the message changes, the message changed, and the species no longer supports its young. No need. Someone else comes along and pokes the egg, prods it, learns it. Someone else supports it. This is trust. This is communal. In the purest sense. The community of the species forwards it and prods it and forces it to become what it is. There is no definition, there need not be finality. The species live on with the help of the world.
It is born again and again in the palm of the sky.
Breeding monsters had never been the career he’d envisioned for himself. There had been a smooth path laid out for him in printing: his great granddad (the late Mr. Gutenberg) had invented the printing press after all. There was something good and solid about spreading “The Witches’ Hammer” across the European continent. Until the day fate chose to cross his yellow brick road with inkblots.
Their biggest press (nicknamed “The Monster”) had been spewing out pages and pages of “The Witches’ Hammer” for the French market, when the operator noticed big trouble: almost every page was stained with thick drops of ink that leaked across the page when he tried to brush them off. The Monster was defective. While his workmen worked around the clock to save the leaking press, Gutenberg’s great grandson took it upon himself to search for pages that could be rescued. The less that had to be reprinted, the better. They were working on a tight schedule here.
Deep into the night the printing press owner leafed through pages and pages, looked at inkblot after inkblot, wondering if there was just one page that could be saved. But every page was the same: ink spattered like blood of a dieing animal. The owner realised he was ruined. With watery eyes he stared at the pages scattered across the floor, tables and chairs of his study. He sighed. If only his precious Monster hadn’t abandoned him… The only monster he had allowed to live in this world.
Before his tired eyes the blots on the pages started to shift and change. They grew bigger, getting hands and feet. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his view. The shaking only awakened the creatures, making them hop from page to page.
Years later he found himself watching inkblots grow on paper, and caressing new-born monsters. This one was his favourite. She’d given him many eggs that hatched into monsters to admire, monsters that would never make it into “The Witches’ Hammer”, and that would make their big Monster-Mama proud.
This final monster
Leaves his world behind
In order to see what else lies
In the world outside.
Not exactly a rhyme, but hey, good enough?
It’s been fun, Stefan. Ever since Monster 37 (when I first found the site), it’s been great to see a new creation every day. And it’s not like it’s ending or anything. It just won’t be an a daily basis. Thanks again.
I wish it were 344 Monsters..
Monster 100 is in my top favorites though. That ought to cheer her up, after she laid another one of her magnificent eggs. Her life has been consumed into laying eggs for her endangered family. She has no time to care for her own babies and must trust them to grow up by themselves. A sad life for her. To cope with the pain, she is able to travel around the world laying eggs wherever she pleases. It’s always hard to describe to new people how her children are like, since she’s never seen one properly grow up. Maybe one day her family will never face extinction again, and they could organize a big Monster reunion.
What does this mean? Are you done? Please say it ain’t so. I don’t know about the story of the egg, but my story is this. I just turned on a computer for the first time Jan 1st 2007! and within a few days of surfing the web I came across your site and I have been so delighted by your drawings and creations. I even sent out a group email telling everyone I know about your site! Keep it up! the world really does love and need eccentric people, and dude you fit the bill!
Love Beth
Don’t fear, Beth, the monsters aren’t gone forever, they are just moving to a new time table. If I am not mistaken (and often times I am, but perhaps not this time), they will be going to a weekly release, rather than the daily.
Don’t forget to keep your eyes peeled for the book that will collect all 100 of the daily monsters and their stories. There were some real hum-dingers these past few months.
On a related note: I feel like I am suffering from withdrawal not writing a story for the last couple of days…
I know what you mean Terry. I never developed any of the epic-length stories that you consistantly procured, but I feel the story withdrawl as well. Im glad they’ll continue weekly though.
Great job, Stefan! You rock for bringing all of these monsters to life! We will miss them…
The spiritual heirs of John Nevil Maskelyne would no doubt take issue with the adjective “spiritual”, but nevertheless, here they are: a group of magicians, experts, textperts, choking smokers and skeptics taking time off from their endless pursuit of rogue billet readers to meet in Conference Room A of a Holiday Inn in Fresno to puzzle out the existence of Monster 100. The more taxonomically inclined ask, is Monster 100 a monotreme?
The case for: He has hair and he just laid an egg.
The case against: Teeth.
The prevailing opinion, then, is that perhaps the egg-laying is just some clever legerdemain (“legerdederriere”?) on 100’s part. He does bear a passing resemblance to Ricky Jay, or at least something Ricky Jay would be interested in (they say broadsheets begin to resemble their owners). Where is Ricky Jay, anyway? Shouldn’t he be here? They put the video on a loop and they determine: there is some funny business going on with that second sheet of paper. Perhaps that’s how it was done? But no one can pinpoint it exactly. Murmurs from the crowd: “Eggs are common enough magician props”; “Nothing up my sheaves”; “Regardless, man, you should have seen them kicking Edgar Allan Poe.”
And then someone says, quietly: “The great mentalist, The Amazing Dunninger, once said there is one primary rule in the fakery of spirit mediumship” (one assumes that this extends to Magical Egg Apparition); he continues: “And that is, to concentrate upon persons who have suffered a bereavement.” The speaker looks around the room: everyone there is suffering a bereavement, for 100 is the last of the Daily Monsters. The magicians look around at each other for a moment and then shuffle sadly out of the conference room. They’re in no state to crack this one, and anyway, Martin Gardner is going to do a Power Point about the time he had a fistfight with Uri Geller and they don’t want to miss it.
As they file out, the video is still on a loop, and that Logan Hasson viola piece comes up again as the last magician is turning off the light. Listening to it, he can almost put some words to it: “I am the Eggman. They are the eggmen. I am the walrus,” but then as immediately as it starts to make sense, he has lost it again, and so he snaps the lights off at last.
Goo goo g’joob g’goo goo g’joob.
i love the work. when i was a kid i would draw monsters and cartoons out of shapes.
It’s not easy being last.
I have always been last. But that’s not as bad as being the one always being made fun of.
Ever since I can remember, I have been made fun of. Friends, if you can call them that, always made jokes about my rounded head and skinny nose. Heck, I never thought I was that different. And the shorty jokes too. Me short? I’m almost 2′ tall!
It was assumed I would always be the last. But then it happened. I surprised them all the day 101 came. No one could believe it! No one had ever made a new one by themselves. But I did! And from now on there will be someone else thats last. Not me, not Mr.100. And I hope 101 has lots of problems with it too. I hope 101 is short, stinky, curly nose, square headed, and RED! Yeah, that’s what I hope….
Well, unless he wants to be my friend. Then I hope 101 is just as unique as me.
Noooo
I love your monsters, man.
Please, don’t let us dreaming of them.
I hope you create the next one soon.
Thanks for share your creativity with us!
Hugs.
Janice is monster 100. Umm… Heh-heh… Snigger… Chortle… Hahah!
She lived in a homey apartment in Alvadora. Every day she would go to work in the Monster Mall as a cashier for MaulMart. Every day she would do the same old thing: “cha-ching, put in…”
Until one day, Stefan Bucher invited her to be on a computer show called “The Daily Monster.” Of course, she said, “yes!”
And every day, instead of Janice’s friends saying “how’s the cashier job in MaulMart?” they would say, “Hey! I saw you on the Daily Monster last night!”
I’m OK, thought Janice. Of course, not everyone thought that. Janice’s boss, Mr. Beetledung was actually very jealous of Janice’s new fame. He schemed and plotted and tried to think of a way to take Janice’s place on the Daily Monster. If something bad had to happen to his little cashier, well, sometimes you’ve got to spill a little wine while making grapes. Or something.
We’ll miss you, Daily Monster! You were fun and inspiring!
To all the monsters of 344,
the ones that had three legs, a snout and more,
you gave us some giggles, we made some new friends,
it’s a shame that it so quickly came to an end.
Some were frightning, some were kind,
some could see, and some were blind,
but every single monster had something to give —
their own special story, a reason to live.
From A to Z, they were all unique,
and even though the ending is very bleak,
We shall remember you fondly and love you more and more,
the hideous, the beautiful, of 344.
Hopefully, this won’t be the last we hear of you, Stefan. Even though 344 loves us, we love it even more.
… *sob*
– Rose
“We monsters are leaving. Your fancy mate’s beds leave us nowhere to sleep at night. Your video games make us nothing that children fear,” sighed the last monster from the depths of his absurd turtleneck.
So, the monsters packed, and the monsters sighed, and the monsters took one last look at their old homes. They turned their rough and beloved faces to the West, and faded into the shadows… all but one.
The spokes-monster stood last upon the page, knowing he couldn’t stay, but afraid to leave. The committee had voted; minds could no longer be changed… but he would miss Stefan and all the other people who came to peer at the monsters through their glowing windows.
He peered out, and saw the sad faces of thousands, and knew he would be missed. Strangely, this warmed his heart, and he could not remain still. A little jig escaped from his depths. He knew he would not be lonely on his trip. The last to leave, he accepted Stefan’s help down from the page, and trundled on his way towards his new home… Somewhere the map called Sityaki, somewhere West in a place called a desert.
He wondered what he’d find there, and his heart soared.
…
It wasn’t until they all landed in Las Vegas that they realized junior (or juniorette) had been left behind.
And so ends the saga of the hundred monsters.
And so begins the story of the littlest monster almost alone in a big world. Take care of him Stefan. He’s the last of his kind.
I just found out about your site last week through the Very Short List, but I wanted to post to tell you how brilliant you are.
I went back to #1, and watched every single daily monster until 100 (where I’m at now) just to enjoy the artistic genius of it all. I’m amazed at how each ink-spurt inspires you to see and create a different monster, and how intricate your drawings are.
Thank you for creating something fun and beautiful for us all to admire.
I’ll post a story to one of the newer ones soon.
🙂
GEDANKEN EINES MONSTERFANS
Eingehüllt in Dunkelheit
Gedankenfetzen
Schwarze Löcher
Laute Stille
Traurigkeit
100 Monster…
Soll das alles sein?
Ende??
Aus???
Das darf nicht sein!!!
Das kann nicht sein!!!
Das wird nicht sein!!!
DAS ENDE MUSS EIN ANFANG SEIN
Welch ein Wunder
nichts verloren…
Drücken
Pressen
Schreien
Yeahhh!!!
101 IST GEBOREN!!!
this is so good. keep this going.