Most people don’t believe me when I say that I’ve met monsters. And I don’t mean metaphorical monsters like Rupert Murdoch or William Hung. Who I actually did meet by the way. You wouldn’t think so, but he’s a prick. Anyway, what I mean are real monsters like frankensteins and vampires and such. Monsters are all around us living their lives. Chances are some of those monsters are living right in your neighborhood.
I know a vampire named Ernie that lives down the street from me. And let me tell you something. Vampires love to be condescending and make you feel stupid. Every time he opens his mouth, I can guarantee that he’s going to be giving you some useless and obscure fact that you’re never ever going to use in your life. Which is understandable, I guess. Always being locked in your house and shunned leaves little else to do except watch the late night line-up of the History Channel. Plus he’s been alive for the past couple hundred of years so every time I try to humor him with some history facts of my own he just gives a smug smile and says, “Yeah, I remember that. Taft was president.” Then he’ll go off citing more obscure facts about the Teapot Dome Scandal.
The worst is when there’s more than one vampire together lifting their pinky fingers and drinking blood from dainty little cups. Always correcting my grammar. Sometimes it’s “who”, you know!
Right across the street from the vampire lives a Frankenstein named Frank. But I like to call him Frankey. He’s so whiny. He just mopes around all day about how he never got over his fear of fire and that being assembled from dead people blows a hole in his self-esteem.
Plus he’s one of those rights-for-the-dead activists that won’t shut up. If he isn’t complaining, he’s mouthing off about how since he’s made from dead parts he isn’t technically alive so he doesn’t have the same rights as a living person.
Tim the Vampire accepted the fact that he’s being shunned from society. It’s about time Frankey stopped his whining and did the same.
Just a couple of weeks ago, Hank the Bearwolf moved next door. If you haven’t heard of a bearwolf they’re completely different from a werewolf. A bearwolf is a sort of combination between a bear and a wolf. And he isn’t in bearwolf form only during full moons. He’s a bearwolf all the time. And bearwolves smell. Especially this one since he happens to be a hippie bearwolf. He grows all his food in the organic farm he has in the back. Then gobbles those chickens up and doesn’t bother to clean the blood off his fur. Have you ever smelled rotting dried-up blood stuck in bearwolf fur?
Interestingly enough, Hank the Bearwolf’s favorite piece of literature is Beowulf.
And it’s a huge hassle whenever a God-fearing mobs marches in the neighborhood. Every time that pitchfork and torch wielding mob barges in, I have to run out of the house and re-direct them to the inter-racial gay couple on the other side of the block. My monster friends may be annoying but they’re still my friends.
