DAILY MONSTER 64
Good morning! I hope you’re enjoying the weekend so far. It’s a heavy work day (night) over here, so I’ll get straight to it: Great stories posted STOP Please to read them now STOP Available by clicking following banner STOP Enjoyment surely to be derived STOP
Monster 64 is having difficulties. Did he eat at the same restaurant as Monster 54? Did he freeze in the same cold? Or is he feeding on air-krill? If you have a minute today, please take a few minutes and…
Thank you for visiting the monsters today.
Even on the weekend 344 LOVES YOU
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Oh, and lest I forget: 4-year-old Jaden April (and her dad Rocco) sent me this beautiful monster. What a cool creature, Jaden! Thank you for letting us take a look at it, too:
Finally, a special little weekend treat: Florian, an Austrian friend of the monsters surprised me with a video story yesterday. He did a beautiful job animating Monster 62. Please check it out:
You can check out Florian’s high(ish) resolution version by clicking here.
When the last cockroach had managed to (mostly) escape Unk’s boot and scurry under the Slurpee machine dragging its broken legs and cracked shell into the sticky syrup, well, it was just too good to pass up, wasn’t it?
Too many stamps,
too many envelopes.
That’s how you get
the big, big tongue,
the blue tongue of bleah.
Oh yeah, oh yeah.
The blue tongue of bleah.
Oh yeah, oh yeah.
The trouble with invicible steel poles is that you can’t see them, so on cold winter days, if you happen to feel like walking around with you tongue hanging out for no reason at all, you could very likely get stuck to one, and be there for a very long time.
Tragic really. We’ll just have to wait for spring to come and thaw him out.
In true alliteration fashion, Bromley Benson busted his brand new bike one brilliantly bright morning. Not believing his bad blessings he busted open a bag of bitter blueberries and began to breathe them in. Boatloads of berries blew into his belly, and before long, his bloated body began to behave boorishly. His bulbous baby-blues bulged, breeding bother of blindness. His tongue blushed beryl and beleaguered him boundlessly. Fortunately, Bromley belched and broke free the offending berry, which was blocking his breathing pipe, and all was blissful once again. Except for his busted bike.
Better late than never, I s’pose.
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The attorney held up the evidence photo for an easier view. Her eyes were wide, possessing no life. Her mouth agape from a mixture of shock and pain. Likely trying to gain precious air that was no longer available. Her large tongue now blue from the lack of oxygen. Precious element of life. Laying limp over the lower lip, saliva dried up in the creases of her mouth. The lowly tunic she wore unblemished and indescript. The solicitor panned the photo back and forth for all to see. His face showing no emotion. He set it down on the podium and cleared his throat to make the announcement.
“As you can plainly see by this photo, the mass-murdering, despicable blight on our society that was Ms. Abigail Thornton was executed this morning by way of suffocation. Her punishment fitting her crime, as is the case with all offenders. A direct match for her callous treatment towards her victims. It is this office’s firm stance that all criminals meet the exact fate of their victims and Ms. Thornton’s execution is a testament to it. We will not back away from this position. Thank you, and have a safe afternoon.”
64: Eeeecha punched me and gave me a fat lip.
What he had initially thought to be the Noro Virus turned out to be something more…there was a light growing inside of him…
Überhaupt nicht lustig findet 64 seinen Ferienjob in Capri. Er und eine Entlastungsgrotte… Pha! Was soll das?
Er hat doch nur ein bisschen viel von dem hellblauen Fancy Eis geschleckt.
Das hat 64 nun davon. Wobei, er macht sich eigentlich sehr gut als blaue Grotte. Der Touristenansturm ist riesig, kein langes Warten mehr, kein Gedränge, keine Kentergefahr in einer überfüllten Barke, keine sich entleerenden Mägen…
Die Besucher sind soweit zufrieden, einzig der unangenehm süssliche Eiscremegeruch, der im Monsterrachen hängt, trübt das Vergnügen ein wenig.