DAILY MONSTER 192 (of 200)
Good morning. Happy Thursday! I’ve always liked Thursdays. Enough of the week has passed for things to be in serious motion, the weekend is nigh, but there is still time to get things done. And, of course, there is also enough time left to procrastinate a bit:
Monster 192 is all cued up for you already:
If you’re reading this on my Amazon blog, please click here to see the video.
192 looks tense — ready for the spotlight, certainly, but also apprehensive. I suppose there are many ways to be in the spotlight. Is 192 a performer? A musician? Is he going to a ball? Or a wedding? Or a bar mitzvah? Or is this his work uniform for a glamour-free job? What do you think has 192 gritting his considerable teeth? I hope you’ll take a minute to…
I’m looking forward to reading your stories.
For now, I hope you’ll have a great day.
I hope you know that 344 LOVES YOU
Zacharias Goldberg is the best and the only Jewish mouthpiano player of this century.
Because he is so wellgroomed and well-shaped, everybody want to take him on their bar mizwah party. Zacharias Goldberg plays the fastest finger Reggae and the liveliest Punk Rock ever heard. It’s really unbelievable!
Rudy is neither a performer, nor a musician. He is getting dressed for his wedding, and well… wouldn’t you look a little apprehensive too? Cold feet in a monstergroom is common…
Punto wished he hadn’t let Vacqueline talk him into a tuxedo that matched her prom dress. The bowtie and cummerbund wasn’t so bad–it was when he put on the jacket that the problems arose. Even the guy at the rental place hadn’t been able to say it looked good on him.
Still–it would be worth it when he sailed into the prom with Vacqueline on his arm! Beautiful Vacqueline, with her glorious smile and her adorable tiny feet, like twinkling stars…all his. Punto sighed with bliss, and put on his jacket.
Little Charlie came precariously down the steps at his parents house. This is the first time he had ever had a suit on, let alone a tuxedo.
His mother came rushing out of the kitchen and squealed, “Oh, Charlie dear, you look so handsome!” As she opened the box of the boutonnière to attach it to his jacket, his father came out, smiled, and said, “You look good son. You look real good.”
Charlie was nervous about his senior prom. He tried to smile, but all he could manage was a nervous teeth-grinding smile.
His mother brushed his hair with her hand and said, “I’m so proud of you, Charlie.” She wiped a tear away from her eye and said, “Have a good time at the prom sweetie.”
Charlie just took a deep breath and nervously opened the door. This was a big day for little Charlie… a big day indeed.
Ah, what a delightful impresario monster 192 is indeed. He’s always been a terrific musician but, like the majority or the monster world, destined to be kept in the background.
You know he wrote all of the songs and music for the entire Barry White, Crazy Horse and Frank Zappa back catalogues. And he didn’t get a penny.
the reason for the gritted teeth? His new client, Brittany Spears, is looking like she might be a non-payer too …
The preeteen prom was going well. Dusty Mendershak had only thrown up in the music room three times (‘Nerves’, he kept muttering) and there had been only three oguleth attacks this evening which was rare for the season.
The teal crape-paper streamers were taped to the ceiling almost as a last-thought, various ones either being now pulled down by near-pubescent ne’er-do-wells in giggling fits of destructive force, or taped to the ceiling with such ferocity that janitors and cleaning crews would not be able to remove them for weeks to come.
The various promgoers were gussied up like gameshow hosts and high-end prostitutes in miniature. A yelp from the shin-kicked chaperones signaled that the festivities were underway; the band started on an oldies song that everyone over thirty wished for it to finish sooner than it actually did.
Another oguleth attack. This time it was actually Dusty Mendershak. They carted him away, squealing down the darkened junior high hallway and around the corner. Crepe-paper ribbons and black clawed talons.
“This punch isn’t half bad”, muttered one of the chaperones.
“I like the bits of lime. I think Shelly Obertrill’s mom made it”, another one responded.
They made out against the gymnasium bleachers.
Lowdown and Zappanose were headin down to practice (for the big school dance) over at Happening Lane, when they ran into Zach “Goldiegrin” (the monstermashups so named him)…”man…you’re the best..check you out guy…man… you’re always so decked out..it’s so cool that practice will be a dress rehearsal…and check out that cool blue knot you got….man…you’re tie is like such a curved line drawn over those two or more consecutive notes…man…you know, like we all know…only you…”thee Goldiegrin” can get to…you know…with that same pitch…man, only to show us how they can be played continuously….you’re the best man…. oooh.. when Missysister hears you’re jammin with us”….man…whata day…
Six months after a groundbreaking new cosmetic procedure, Sven finally had a chin to be proud of. Prosthetic chin implants have been around, but an entire chin replacement surgery had never been performed prior to Sven’s. To celebrate his newly protruding profile, he suited up in his finest, jellied back his hair, and hit the clubs. He’ll be noticed for sure.
Things could be much worse, Harriet decided. So what if she couldn’t fit into the formal bridesmaid gown for her best friend’s wedding? She wasn’t exactly blessed with an hourglass figure. She was more apple shaped. And her hair, well, it wasn’t really hair. It was more like feathers. And then, there was her man-jaw. She inherited that from her father. But she felt that that was her one claim to fame….Paris Hilton has a man-jaw too, you know. But in spite of all these things…at least she matched! There’s nothing more important than that! Her bow tie, cumberbundt and heels were all a perfect shade of lilac. Sigh. Pure bliss!
Nobody likes to meet their prom date’s parents. I mean talk about awkward situations. “Ummm… yeah… I’m trying to hit that tonight. UP HIGH *insert prom date’s dad’s name here*” Wally was no different than your average, hormonal driven, space alien. After surviving the third degree, Wally couldn’t help but stand there, stiff as a board, forcing a smile to persuade the parents that he wasn’t your average, hormonal driven, space alien.
“I like your suit Wally, where’s the jacket?” Wally’s date’s dad asked accusingly.
“I left it in my dad’s spaceship, outside. It’s kind of hot this time of yarly (the human equivalent of a decade) isn’t it?”
Wally’s prom date’s dad nodded in approval.
“Who fixed-up your tendrils Wally?” Wally’s prom date’s mother asked sincerely.
“My mom helped me out, she owns a salon called ‘Get Your Hair Did’ down by the not-so-milky-way-galaxy. You should come down some time, not that you need to maam.” Wally winked.
Wally’s mother’s prom date blushed and her father let out a hearty laugh.
“Well, here comes my daughter now…”