DAILY MONSTER 155
Good morning. Happy Friday! I hope you made it through the week in one piece. Sometimes things just move so fast. But I take great comfort in the fact that so many of you are taking a break to write truly excellent monster stories. To wit:
Monster 155 has a fairly big secret:
It’s clear what’s going on here. Or is it? It’s the Monsters, so maybe what seems obvious actually has a far stranger explanation. What do you think the story is with these two? I hope you’ll…
Today was supposed to be an early night
on account of an early press check,
but so it goes. Too much to do. Too much to do.
But never too much to tell you that 344 LOVES YOU
Lady Pearhead is, to say it short, a nice old lady. Having inherited a big castle and a decent stack of money, she mostly spends her time knitting scarfs for her two grandchildren and growing yellow roses in the castle’s garden. This is, of course, a very decent task for an old lady like she is, since she passed the 100 years a very long time ago.
And as it is with probably any granny in this world, she also is a bit nosy. And as she lives quite secluded from the rest of the world, you can assume that life in an ancient and cold castle is quite boring.
This one day when the shooting stars fell should change her entire life, though. Old Lady Pearhead stood at the window to watch this spectacle on the clear black sky. The shooting stars traced long white arcs through the sky, illuminating the roses underneath that windows beautifully. She was awestruck by those wonderful sights, when suddenly a very bright light flashed next to her eyes and ended up in a loud bang into the ground.
When Lady Pearhead finally got back onto her feet, – she had toppled over when the light had flashed – she rushed to the window to see what had happened. And right beneath the roses a weird object had fallen to the ground. The flowers next to it didn’t look as beautiful as before, though.
The next day, while digging out the burnt roses, she found the object again. Carefully, she pulled it out of the soil it stuck in. Strange. This thing seemed to be a big sort of egg. Lady Pearhead shook her head and stuffed the egg into the pocket of her apron.
When you have an egg, you either crack it up and use it to make a delicious scrambled egg or you hatch it. Luckily for whatever was in it, Lady Pearhead is a person with a big fondness for animals. She decided to hatch it – but where? Eggs need warmth and the castle was not only huge, but really cold. In the end, she decided to take it into bed when she went to sleep. She was a person who needed her warmth at night and thus had thick, fluffy blankets. That should do. At least it would not be disturbed by her snoring.
Some time after this she woke up in the morning and found the egg…cracked up. Astonished, she peered inside, but it was empty. The lady spent the rest of the day searching around the estate for the being that had hatched, but she never found a sign of it.
The only thing that had started after this event were some weird headaches. Her nose felt stuffed and sometimes, she thought she could hear steps right above her nose. But that couldn’t be – could it?
“This is an early concept sketch for the Admiral Ackbar character by Ralph McQuarrie,” our tour guide says, pointing to a black, blotchy illustration labeled “#155”. We’re on the last leg of our San Francisco trip, and are touring Industrial Light & Magic (Duane’s idea). I don’t want to be here, but he put up with my whole family for nine days (we’re talking about talking about getting married so I said he had to meet them). So I can throw him this bone.
“As you can see, the character was a little tough to pin down and went through some pretty drastic revisions in the early stages,” the guide says, “This sketch is actually starting to get to the essence of the character, although here, you can see, Ackbar is female and the head is a little megalencephalic.” Everyone looks at him. “Biggish,” he finally says.
“And what is the little guy in the brain area there?” Duane asks. The tour guide sighs and said, “Jedi came out about a year after ET, and George was so impressed with it, he really got it in his head that Matthew De Meritt should play Ackbar.” He points at the giant brain-sac-thing and says, “That’s where De Meritt would have been positioned in the costume.” Duane leans over and stage-whispers to me, “De Meritt was the kid without legs that played ET.”
“Just in some scenes,” the tour guide says. “George just gets these ideas and won’t let them go. We were already in production and it turned out De Merritt didn’t want to do it. Warwick Davis was already overextended…” Here Duane whispers, “Warwick Davis: he played the main Ewok. And Willow in the movie “Willow”. And the Leprechaun in the “Leprechaun” movies. And he’s been in all the Harry Potters.” The tour guide waits patiently for him to finish and then says, “…and so the part eventually went to Timothy Rose who, because of the way the mask was positioned, had to look out of…”
“The nostrils!” Duane shouts and raises his hand for a high five, which the tour guide gives him, but only after about ten seconds pass and Duane doesn’t put his hand down.
We take a break not long after this exchange, and Duane goes into the men’s room. The tour guide comes up to me. “Are you two serious?” he asks. I tell him it’s not really any of his business, but yes, we’re thinking about getting married, although as I say this, I think: this has been a tough nine days. He didn’t really get along with my family, and this fanboy obsession stuff really kind of came out of nowhere. Back in Madison, most of our friends are my friends and he doesn’t really act like this. “You don’t seem all that into this,” the tour guide says.
“Not really,” I say, “This is Duane’s thing. I’ve seen parts of ‘Star Wars’ on TV, but that’s about the extent of my knowledge. I couldn’t tell you a single line that Admiral Ackbar said in the movie.”
About this time Duane comes out of the men’s room, and says, “You know how I took that multi-vitamin this morning?” (I nod.) “Well, when I was peeing just now, I looked down, and my pee was this fluorescent yellow color, and it was like my johnson was like this, I don’t know, like, flesh light saber. It was hilarious.”
I look back over at the tour guide, who raises his eyebrows and locks his eyes with mine. In a weird, hoarse voice he says, “IT’S A TRAP!”
I look at concept sketch #155 for Admiral Ackbar. She’s wearing a wedding dress, and she has a little boy wedged in her brain making it impossible for her to move forward. I freak out, and what always happens, happens. My brain starts arguing with itself: “Prepare to retreat!”
and:
“You won’t get another chance at this!”
and:
“We have no choice!”
and:
“The shields are down!”
and:
“Commence attack!”
and:
“Move the fleet away from the Death Star!”
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right? Just ’cause I got a Martian growin’ in my head don’t mean squat. Doc says he comes out next week. Gonna slice me open and scoop ’em out, jus’ like icy cream. Then I’ll be pretty again. Just you wait n’ see.
“Your life is so glamorous.”
“I know, dah-ling, I know.”
“All the parties, the jewels, the pretty clothes…..you’re surrounded by glamor all the time.”
“I know, dah-ling, I know.”
“Does it get tiring? Always having to look fabulous, having people around you all the time, knowing that people are watching your every move…I don’t know how you do it.”
“I know, dah-ling, I know.”
“So, how DO you do it?”
“I don’t know, dah-ling, I don’t know.”
“Can I come next time? Just to see what it’s like to be you? Even for a moment, I just want a glimpse? Can I come? Please?”
“Of course, dah-ling, of course.”
“There’s that party at Tupelo Towers on Sunday. I bet they will have good snacks. And I’m sure it will be fancy. I can just hide in your pouch. I promise, I’ll be good. I promise.”
“Yes, dah-ling. You must be good. You must.”
“Can I bring snacks? And wear a suit? I have to pretend that I am at the party, and not just hiding in your pouch. I can have confetti. Is that okay?”
“Of course, dah-ling, of course. But no crumbs shall be left behind you, dah-ling. Understood?”
“Yes, Mama. No crumbs. Thank you, Mama. I love you, Mama.”
“I know, dah-ling, I know.”
The very newest in kid-carriers! A mom needs only to have her child surgically inserted in her head, and it will be fed and cared for by your brain. Now available in cerulean.
The Duchess Grella Mombipositor takes her tea on the veranda, near the Vetatiger pits. She enjoys their scent: a musky incense mixed with some sort of fried eggplant odor.
She’s got a lot on her mind, and it shows. The duke should be home from the War soon. Damn those Hushpuppy rebels, wounding him so. He wasn’t meant to wear a fez his entire life, but now will be forced to. Senseless, senseless war.
She sips her tea. The moss bandits did a good job of stealing the right amount this year. It fizzes on the top of the property’s stone wall and releases the most brilliant speckled spores into the afternoon sunlight.
She can’t help but think that the spores floating and colliding in the air remind her of The Duke’s eyes. Strong, and commanding. If it weren’t for the playful grin he wears, why, she’d think him certainly cross at her.
She ponders if he has that grin anymore, since his service. The things he’s seen…
Her mind is heavy with thoughts of him, but she mustn’t let the members of council know, nor her servants or freelance dentists.
She turns her head slowly, as if time has frozen, to hear the doorbell ring.
ふぁあふぁふぁああｆｗふぁｗ
Empress Mantis decides to consume her three day old offspring after being surprised by a loud crash outside her space dome.
Sophia ist eine der wenigen echten Kopffüssler dieser Welt; kein Bauch, nur Kopf und Beine (versteckte). Die kümmerlichen Stummelärmchen zählen nicht. Und das, eben das, ist der zukünftigen Mama Sophias grosse Sorge. Wie soll sie Ihr Eierkind nur heil zur Welt bringen…
Hilfsangebote an: Sophia@Eiermonster.com