DAILY MONSTER 188 (of 200)
Good morning. You’re here on a Sunday! That’s very kind of you. Thank you! I hope you’ll like what I’ve got for you today. First of all, there are all your funny, brilliant stories for Monster 187 are waiting for you right here:
Secondly, Monster 188 is waiting for you.
With impatience or calm resignation? It’s hard to tell:
I’m not at all convinced of the age or gender of this monster. Male or female? Old or young? Tired or sad? Exasperated or embarrassed? Wonder Woman or Executive Transvestite?
Or something entirely different? What do you think is going on here? Will you please take a minute and…
Here’s to a lovely springtime Sunday!
Do keep in mind, please, that 344 LOVES YOU
Hoovy, the old Hoover woman is very exasperated against her vacuum cleaner head. It doesn’t work anymore. She’s so tired and sad looking, because there are clouds of dust everywhere, and she has to do the dusting by hand, without using her own head-machine. It is so hard to catch all these dust-mice.
She want to try a pirouette and whirls around. Oh yeah! she got it! She got it!…a new pirouette vacuum. This will be the end of all her cleaning trouble.
She was ousted from the Padaung tribe and stripped of her brass neck rings, and tried to compensate for her fallen head by donning five inch blue pumps. A traveling band of Christian missionaries took her in and tried to convert her lost soul, but she wanted nothing to do with their beliefs. Life was tragic for the tragically blue Polly-Anna. She moved to Pensacola, FL in hopes of starting a new life. She learned to survive, but swallowing remained problematic. She created a contraption that shot food down her throat, like a t-shirt gun at a hockey game, but food would get lodged between her stretched out uvula and her misshapen tonsils. Sitting on her porch at night, she wishes things were different. Shooting yourself in the face to eat and washing your neck with a rag on a stick is no way to live. Recently, she picked up jewelry making in hopes of recreating her beautiful brass neck once again.
She was ousted from the Padaung tribe and stripped of her brass neck rings, and tried to compensate for her fallen head by donning five inch blue pumps. A traveling band of Christian missionaries took her in and tried to convert her lost soul, but she wanted nothing to do with their beliefs. Life was tragic for the tragically blue Polly-Anna. She moved to Pensacola, FL in hopes of starting a new life. She learned to survive, but swallowing remained problematic. She created a contraption that shot food down her throat, like a t-shirt gun at a hockey game, but food would get lodged between her stretched out uvula and her misshapen tonsils. Sitting on her porch at night, she wishes things were different. Shooting yourself in the face to eat and washing your neck with a rag on a stick is no way to live. Recently, she picked up jewelry making in hopes of recreating her beautiful brass neck once again.
“Oh no he didn’t! He did not just all me okra! Imma kick his ass! Kick his little ol ASS! Memeber that time we’s in Reno and that BITCH came all up in my grill? Imma gonna kick his ass like that all the WAY to the flo. Oh yea, you heard me right. TO the FLO! There is NO WAY hessa calling me OKRA. Hate that bitch! She so nasty! Like that time we’d in Denver looking for some fine Daddies, she all up and pee’d in the street. No way he’s calling me OKRA!”
Vacqua was starting to get irritated.
Breakfast was getting cold. Again. Sheldon was late coming home. Again.
She was sure he had lost track of time out wandering in the park, or perhaps cadging a morning snack and a stomach-scratch from someone, but really, it was just too bad of him! It was understandable that the world’s only cat-monster should work the night shift–but with her promotion to head of maintenance at the hospital, breakfast was the only time they got to see each other!
“Bah, time to go,” she said, looking at the clock. The hospital wouldn’t get cleaned by itself.
There once was a lady from Totum,
who’s body was shaped like a scrotum.
With hands on her hips,
and shoes that don’t fit,
gave a look that alone seemed to scold ‘um.
It’s funny really, that they thought that she would accept their petty praises, for she was the leader of the cheerleading squad. Looking at them with that, “oh no you didn’t!” look in her eyes, they backed away. Later, she bought shoes and thought to herself, “I think that today, I will get my back waxed…
The Unrequited Love Vertebrae Reclamation Committee has updated their annual Citizen Codes Of Courtship Citation, vols. XVI through XXII.
One subset of which requests the following of the Courter class (HUR): To pace frantically by authorized communication handset device no less than three (3) business days after initial outing.
The Courtee class (HMH) in response is to look upon the pathos of the initial outing and write out a clearly-defined request towards the Inbound Department of the Reclamation Request not totaling less than three pages, citing specific good times, possible living arrangements and/or taxable goods equaling more to than the total allowance held by Parental Figures. Enclose in envelope provided.
Failure to adhere to these will be subject to penalties not to exceed two hundred dollars ($200.00 USD) and/or cervical vertebrae column (C1-C7) to be reclaimed.
“We will get you forgetting that special someone! Your other fairytale romance is just around the bend! Keep a stiff upper lip!”
-Doctor Effil Shrrous, Committee Head and Media Development Lead
Kandice lived with Dr. Etienne Bonaparte. Whenever she took her midday naps, he would operate on her. He couldn’t stop it, so she learned to deal with it. He was always able to put her back together in the end. Plus, she liked the attention she received in the supermarkets. Last week, he removed her knees. That really accentuated her new stylish pumps. But this time, she was outraged. He removed her mouth! And he sewed it back onto her back! What would that do?! How will she put her crimson lipstick on now? He is gonna get it when he gets back home!
Oh, please! Arms akimbo = female. And, thanks for giving me a reason to use one of my favorite words.
Poor Mrs. Hammerhead. After two weeks of a pleasant vacation in Oahu, she had to come home to this.
She thought her 18 year old son would have been able to handle himself and the house for two weeks. Two measly weeks! But sadly, she had given him too much credit. The house was a complete mess – chairs and tables turned over, crumbs and scraps all over the floor, and there was a distinct smell of cheap beer lingering throughout the dining room.
She wanted to give her son the benefit of the doubt – she wanted to think that a tornado had come through the house, or heaven forbid they had been robbed while she was away…
She would have rather a stranger come in her house to mess things up than to think poorly of her own flesh and blood. But there he was – lying askew on the living room couch with his filthy, smelly feet on her very expensive cashmere cushions.
She was jet-lagged. She was tired. She was frustrated with her house, and frustrated with her son, but was too exhausted to do anything about either of them.
She called up the local maid services that night and made an appointment for first thing in the morning. The lecture for the son would have to happen tomorrow, lazy thing.
Nancy wasn’t the prettiest girl in the high school most people liked to call her normal,plain, or bland.So Nancy and her gay friend David went shopping so she could look stunning and when David said that grey skirts were “in” Nancy got a bit depressed.
I know this post is super old, but I recently learned of your blog from the lynda.com special. I love the Eddie Izzard reference!
Perhaps the monster is an Action Transvestite.
Heather
Un transvestite d'action? I can see it! :^D Thank you very much for coming
to visit the Monsters, Heather, and for going into the archives!