Monkey's Haircut

One of Monster’s rich uncles was going to be in town and wanted to take Monster and his friend out to dinner at a fancy restaurant.

Monster looked at Monkey who was sitting on the bookcase, reading a book. The fur on her head fell over her ears and her eyes. He said: “You need a haircut.”

Monkey did not hear him because she was reading a thrilling book about pirates.

Monster said “Hey Monkey!” a little bit louder.

She still didn’t hear him so he yelled “Bananas!”

Monkey looked up and said “Argh, matey!”

“I think you should get a haircut.”

“A haircut?”

“Yes. Your fur is covering your eyes. That could be dangerous as well as untidy.”

“I don’t mind dangerous!” said Monkey. “And I don’t like to be tidy. Besides, I have never had a haircut before. Will it hurt?”

“No, of course not!”

Monkey did not believe Monster. It’s not that he was untruthful. Monkey knew that Monster was a honest as an encyclopedia.

But Monkey also knew that often when someone told you that you would not be hurt in a very confident voice it was because that someone was usually much larger than you were and had a demonstrated history of being impervious to a great deal of pain.


“I will take you to my very own barber. Barber Todd.”

“I don’t know Barber Todd.” Said Monkey.

“He is the best barber on our block.” Said Monster. “I have been going to him for years.”

“I didn’t know you had a barber, Monster.” Said Monkey. “Actually, I didn’t know that you had any hair.”

Monster looked hurt. “Of course, I do. I have three!”

He bent over so Monkey could see the top of his head. Sure enough through his scales, between his horns, there were three small hairs.

“Ah, I see!” said Monkey. Which was true.



“And it will be good to get out. We have been in the apartment all week.” Monster said.

Monkey, who did not like the cold, looked out the window. The wind was howling outside their apartment and the snow was smacking against the window, making muffled sounds like your grandmother’s kisses.

“Please?” asked Monster.

Monkey knew that if they went outside, Monster could read all of the front pages of the newspapers in the newsstand on the corner. And she could catch snowflakes on her tongue.

“I will do it because you want to, Monster.”

“Oh good! Get your jacket,” said Monster, “and we shall go!”

Monster put on his boots, coat and scarf. In the summer he often wore a paper bag on his head so as not to scare the passersby. But in winter, he didn’t bother because he just wrapped his scarf around his horns, he looked just like everybody else in the city.

They stood together at the apartment door.

“Do you have your mittens?” Monster asked.

“Yep.” Said Monkey, who did not actually have them with her but knew where they were because she had left them at the ice skating rink a couple weeks ago but didn’t want to tell Monster who had given them to her for a Christmas present. She was wearing fuzzy socks on her hands, which were tucked in her pockets.

“Do you have your key?” asked Monkey.

Monster said yes, which was true because the key to the apartment was on a string around his neck always. Even when he took a shower because he never wanted to be locked out.

“Do you have money?” Monster asked.

“Money?” Monkey asked back.

“Yes. A haircut costs six dollars.”

“Oh!” said Monkey. “I didn’t know that.”

She looked down at her toes. She had spent all her money that week on comic books and copper wire for science experiments. “I don’t have six dollars!” she said sadly.

“Oh.” Said Monster. He did not have any spare cash either. He was saving his money for a trip back to the volcano where he had been born.

“What will we do?” asked Monkey mournfully.

“I don’t know.” Said Monster. He looked at Monkey even more sadly.

Monkey hated to see Monster sad.

“I know!” she said. “You can give me a haircut!”

“Oh! Oh.” He said. He closed his eyes.

She could tell that he was thinking hard.

He scrunched up his horns. She held her breath and waited. And then he said:

“I suppose that I could. I guess.”

“Oh yes!” said Monkey.

She threw off her jacket and ran to the kitchen, coming back with a large, sharp knife. “Here you go!”

“Um,” said Monster. “I think scissors would work better.”

Monkey leaped to the art supplies drawer and came back with a small pair of scissors. They were too small for Monster’s hands, but he could operate them with the tips of his claws. Monster put a chair on the kitchen table and Monkey climbed up into it.

“Are you sure this won’t hurt?” She asked.

“Oh yes, I’m sure!” Monster took one of Monkey’s hairs in one claw and snipped. “See?” He showed Monkey a little bit of brown fur.

“AAAAHHHH!” She screamed and jumped up and down, knocking over the chair. “That’s my FUR!”

“Monkey – it’s just a little bit! I’m only going to give you a trim so you can see!”

“I don’t like this!” she hollered.

“Sit down! It will just take a minute!” Said Monster sternly.

“No! No! No! You’re going to cut off all my fur!”

“No, I won’t!” yelled Monster.

“Yes you will!” yelled Monkey. She jumped off the table to the window, trying to open it up to get to the fire escape. You were only supposed to use the fire escape in an emergency since they lived on the fourth floor. But this was certainly an emergency.

Monster peeled her from the sash and sat on her as he trimmed the rest of her fur while she was yelling.

“mmmfhfdgyeedghjmmnhjkl;poi8uytrfdcvjk!”

Finally he said: “There, you’re done!” And stood up.



Monkey stood up and patted her head. “I still have fur!”

“Of course you do! I didn’t cut it ALL off!”

“Oh.” She said.

He handed her the polished silver hubcap that he used as a mirror when he polished his horns in the morning.

“Ohhh.” She said. “I do look nice!”

“Hmmmf” said Monster

“What?” asked Monkey.

“I missed a spot by your ear.”

“I can’t see it.”

“But I can.”

“It’s fine.”

“No it’s not. Hold still!”

Monster lunged with his scissors, Monkey dodged them – but the wrong way! He accidentally cut her left ear.

“Owwww! That hurt! That hurt!”

Blood was coming out her ear and Monkey was crying and saying “Ow! Ow! Ow!”

“Agh! Blood!” Monster hated the sight of blood even though it wasn’t that much. He felt dizzy and fell over onto the floor. His feet wiggled in the air but then he was silent.

“Oh no!” said Monkey.

She ran to the freezer and got out a gallon of ice cream and put it on his forehead.

“Agh! Cold!” said Monster, waking up. And then he sat up and said “Thanks.” And then “I’m sorry I cut your ear.”

“That’s OK.” Said Monkey, who’s ear was still bleeding a little bit making little red polka dots on Monster’s tummy.

And then Monster wrapped his scarf around Monkey’s head and gave her a hug and a kiss and said that he was sorry again.

He got out two bowls and two spoons and made a banana split sundae for Monkey, cutting the banana without peeling it, just the way she liked it. He let her eat the sundae while reading her book too.

Monkey caught the reflection of her bandaged head in the hubcap and said:

“Hey, I look like a pirate!”

“Hey you do!” said Monster.

And so they had a spoon sword fight until all of the ice cream was nice and melty.

Monster's Message

Monster woke up happy. The night had been a good one. Somewhere in the city there must have been a fire or a bad traffic accident because the sirens from the emergency vehicles had blared for hours, soothing him like a lullaby. Monster lived right across the street from a fire station because he loved the sound of sirens so much. They reminded him of his mother singing to him when he was still in his egg.

The morning was going to be a good one, too, he thought as he crawled out of bed. The day was cold, grey and drizzling - just right. He ate some pigeons as he waited for his cup of sludge to stew. The zombie rats who lived under the stove poked their noses out and he tossed some leftovers to them. They squeaked appreciatively, disappearing back under the stove to fight over the juicy bits.

After breakfast, Monster dusted bits of feather from his scaly hide, sharpened his claws and flossed his fangs with some special steel wire that he liked because it was rust flavored. He shined his horns and did his scary face exercises in front of the mirror. Then, with his briefcase in one claw and a copy of the Wall Street Journal in the other, Monster was ready to go to work.

On a normal morning, Monster would exit the trapdoor of his apartment and make his way down the regular building stairs before stepping out onto the busy sidewalk to join the other big city commuters on the subway.

But this was not a normal morning.

Once Monster stepped out onto the sidewalk, he stopped suddenly in his tracks. There, scratched into the cement - well, it had been clawed into the cement - was the monster secret mark! A dark X glowing with a thin film of green slime was carved into the pavement right in front of the door to his building. The mark was intended for Monster and it meant only one thing - Something was up! Something important! Something urgent!

Monster called his boss on his cell phone and said that he had an emergency and would not be able to come into work until later. Then he went back into his building and took out a key, which opened up the door to the basement. Monster walked down a flight of stairs and surveyed the contents of the basement in the dim light of a single, dusty lightbulb: an old washer and dryer, a dented smelly trash bin, some dusty cardboard boxes, a grimy bucket holding a mop and, against the far wall, a laser powered retinal scan security lock coded to Monster's DNA. The security scanner quickly authenticated Monster, opening a hidden sliding steel door, which revealed another set of stairs. These stairs went even further down, down to a secret passageway that connected to a labrynith of tunnels underneath the big city.

This secret tunnel smelled dank and moldy like a thousand socks that had gotten wet at the beach and then were sealed up in a plastic bag, only to be found many years later. Torches mounted to the bare stone walls magically erupted into flames and extinguished themselves as Monster passed by. Monster walked purposefully, feeling nervous, excited and fearful, his head dizzy with thoughts about what the signal could mean. The path sloped downward and he felt himself walking faster and faster, almost jogging now. He tried to slow down, because it he needed to remember the right twists and turns to take to get to the Monster Message Cave. Otherwise, he could get lost in the maze of interconnecting passageways.

Two chubby dwarves emerged from an intersecting side tunnel, startling him. He almost stumbled right on top of them. "Yo, dude! Watch it!" They yelled at him.

"Sorry." said Monster sheepishly, holding onto the rock wall to regain his balance and stepping aside as they passed.

A dozen bats flew past him, heading in the opposite direction, whooshing through the air above his horns. His ears popped a bit as warm, sulfurish smells tickled his nose. He knew he must be getting closer!

Monster turned a corner and finally he could see the glow-worm lights that marked the Message Cave. He hurried up to the cave's entrance where a fat gnome sat at a security booth with a phone, a flashlight and a walkie-talkie.

"ID please." The gnome said, not looking up much from the security monitors.

Monster fumbled around for his driver's license and handed it over.

"I'm sorry, but it's expired." said the gnome with a bored expression.

Monster groped through his wallet anxiously and found the little card that the DMV had mailed to him with the extension notice and handed it to the gnome.

"OK, go on in." said the gnome, glancing up briefly and then pressing some buttons on the panel in front of him.

Monster entered a large, well-lit cave filled with bats and the hunched over imps who were tending to them. One entire wall was covered from floor to ceiling by numbered cubby holes carved into the rock. He approached a wingless purple imp who sat behind the counter with a worn beret pulled over his spikey ears and introduced himself, showing his ID again.

"Hmmm," said the imp, looking at a list of names. "Must be that message from Monster Island. Slot 274." The imp turned and climbed a ladder to reach into a slot, pulling out a large brown bat who looked sleepy and irritable. The imp tugged at a little band around the bat's tummy, and tossed a small reddish-brown capsule to Monster, then he shoved the bat unceremoniously back into the cubby hole.

Monster was a bit perplexed. "Um, it's not a scroll or a stone tablet?"

The imp gave Monster a bit of a look and snorted. "This here is an interdimensional message, you know, it came via a specially bred hyperspace bat. Monster Island doesn't exist in the normal Earth space-time continuum, pal. The message has been condensed."

Monster was still confused. He turned the tiny cylinder over in his claws. He sniffed it. It smelled like dirt. He realized that he had started sweating again.

"How do I read it?" He asked.

"Just add water." The imp said impatiently.

Monster still didn't understand. He hated it when it seemed like everyone else knew what to do and he didn't. But he couldn't figure out what to do so he just stood there with his head down, his eyes blinking rapidly and uncontrollably.

The imp sighed. "Here, I'll show you."

He gestured to an area which was apparently the reading room for urgent dehydrated interdimensional messages. A long stone table was carved from the rock walls. Glow worms in glass orbs were placed at intervals on the table. There were some comfortable-looking smaller, flat-topped rocks lined against the table that looked like they could be used for sitting. Monster, following the imp, could see that shallow rectangles had been carved into the table surface, about an inch deep or so, to make a space that could easily contain a large open book.

The imp took the capsule and placed it in the center of the recess. Then, he tugged on a chain, which caused a thin stream of water to flow over the table and into the carved out recess, soaking the small message glob. Instantly, the capsule started to expand and spread out, absorbing the water, filling up the shallow rectangle in front of them and slowly solidifying into a rather large clay tablet covered in scratches.

Monster was delighted. "Gee, thanks!" he said happily.

"No problem" the imp replied as he returned to his desk to help the next customer who appeared to be a rather large lizard standing on his hind legs, sporting a trench coat and chewing on an unlit cigar.

Monster watched, fascinated as the message formed in front of his eyes. He recognized his father's handwriting in Monsterish. (Here is what it looked like. Below it is the translation into English.)


"Dear Monster -

If you get this message, it will mean that Monster Island has fallen in battle from enemy attack. Do not try to contact us or find us or your own life will be in danger as well. You must be very careful from now on! it is the mission of our foes to eliminate monster kind from existence entirely.

Signed - The chief Monster
Dad

PS - There is one thing that I must tell you now. you are not our son. Your egg appeared at our doorstep and we know not from where you came.

PPS - Your mother says no matter what happens, remember to floss your fangs every night."


"Dear Monster -

If you get this message, it means that Monster Island has fallen in battle from enemy attack. Do not try to contact or locate us otherwise your own life will be in danger as well. You must be extremely careful! Our foes will stop at nothing to eliminate all of monster kind from existence entirely.

(Signed)
The Chief Monster
aka Dad

PS - There is one last thing that I must tell you. You are not our son. Your egg appeared at our cave one day and we know not from where you came.

PPS - Your mother says no matter what happens, remember to floss your fangs every night."


Monster didn't know what to do or think. He was absolutely stunned. Monster Island invaded by enemies? Which enemies? And his family was captured or gone forever? And his family wasn't his family? He was ....adopted?? He reached down to take the tablet, to read it again, to have something to hold, but the reconstituted clay tablet was too thin and frail, the pieces chipped off and fell into fragments. He watched the message crumble onto the floor.

And then he heard the imp, who was poking him in the ribs, saying "Hey, buddy, you done yet? We got a big party here who wants to send out wedding invitations. Would you mind moving over?"

Monster nodded numbly and walked slowly towards the exit, each step a huge effort as if it was all he could do to keep moving, stumbling under the weight of his unbearably heavy heart.

Monster's Job

One day Monster came into work and his boss asked to see him right away. Monster had never been in trouble before. He was a bit worried. He tried to not listen to his heart pounding loudly in his scaly chest when he asked:

"What is it, sir?"

"Well, Monster, I'm sorry but we've been getting some complaints from the Quality Control department about your latest batch of bad dreams."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, sir. What is the problem?" asked Monster, very concerned. He took great pride in his work. As a matter of fact, he lived for his job. It was the only thing that he did besides go to the library on Saturdays and the occasional volunteer shift at the Recycling Center smashing aluminum cans. Monster had always performed his job with great dedication and passion. Now, he felt like a screw-up. What had gone wrong? He could feel the sweat on his brow forming. Luckily, he had a pocket handkerchief.

"Please sit." said the Boss Monster. He looked wearily at a stack of print-outs on his desk while Monster sat down in an armchair and mopped his horns. "Well, there's a couple problems here on last night's release. It looks like QC felt it just wasn't bad enough. Let me see, the error report says that there was one with pink shoes and... hm... a gerbil? Do you remember that one, Monster? Was that a mistake or am I just missing something really creative here?"

"Hmmm," said Monster, truthfully, "I don't remember that one." This made him sweat more profusely.

"What about the one with the singing toothbrush? Can you tell me how that is supposed to be a bad dream?"

"Oh dear, " said Monster, furrowing his scaled brow and shaking his head, "I don't remember that one either." He wrung out the handkerchief over the trash can in the corner. The salty liquid from it hit some mice who were hiding there, making them squeak in fright as the trash can started to fill up. They climbed on each other shoulders to escape to another drier trash can.

"That's strange." said the Boss monster. "You've always been one of our best designers. I don't understand what's going on. How are these dreams escaping out into the night without you knowing about them?"

Monster thought and thought. And then he believed he knew the answer to the strange situation.

"Maybe it's a software problem." said the Monster. They had just converted to an automated system after years of making up the dreams by hand. And there had been a major system upgrade that past week. "Should we check the file system?"

"Good idea." said the Boss "Let me call the networking guys and see if they can figure it out. Why don't you just take a break until we can get your system fixed?"

"Sure," said Monster. He was so relieved! That had to be the problem. It just had to be. But still. A singing toothbrush? How embarrassing! What if his co-workers found out about it? He would never be able to hold his tail up at their next department meeting. And these kinds of mistakes could really hurt his chance of promotion to Dream Team Leader.

Monster went back to his desk and crawled underneath it. He didn't realize he was so tired. What a bad day! And there would be no new bad dreams to look forward to until he got his system fixed. He curled up under his desk and soon he was snoozing fitfully.

He was not sure how much time had passed, but Monster could tell it was Later when his eyes opened by the way the light came in low through the boards nailed over the tiny window and lit up his rock collection that he kept on a shelf over his desk. His legs and arms were stiff and cramped under the desk. But he did not move right away because he heard an Unusual Voice and the sounds of his workstation being moved around, the monitor scraping the fake wood surface of his desk. Tiny particle pixies of dust glittered in the thinning light and sprinkled down the front of his desk as he heard the voice talking to itself.

"Hmmm, looks like the diagnostic indicators have malfunctioned..." said the voice.

What should he do? The network technician must be working on his system. It would be rather embarrassing if he crawled out from under his desk at this moment. Maybe it was best to keep hidden. The voice was just talking to itself. Or rather herself. And it was humming a little song which sounded a lot like a tune he remembered from the Shrek soundtrack album that his mother had given him for his birthday two years ago. He tried to stay very still. Monster was sure that the voice would be gone soon, his system would be fixed and then he could get back to work which is what he really wanted to do.

"Darn!" said the voice suddenly. A yellow-handled screwdriver hit the floor near the desk and rolled under it into the shadows of Monster's nose. What should he do now? He did what he did in most situations when he didn't know what to do. He held his breath and pretended that he wasn't really there.

A small pink hand reached down from the desktop, patting the floor and then, then, the little pink hand patted Monster. Of course the hand didn't know it was patting him. It was looking for the screwdriver in the darkness under the desk without bothering to use it's eyes. But the warm soft hand paused on his scaly hide gently patting him and Monster was filled with a funny feeling. It was something like drinking hot chocolate on a very cold day; he could feel a tingling delicious warm feeling filling him up. It was a feeling that he had never felt before. He felt paralyzed on the floor under his desk. He didn't want the hand to find the screwdriver, it felt so nice on his rough hide. Monster thought it felt like a flower petal that accidentally fell on his nose once in the springtime when he had been much younger. But just as he was thinking this, the hand stopped in it's tracks. It's fingers rested briefly on his shoulder and then felt one of his horns and then, quickly it was gone.

He tried to sit up a bit. A small furry upside-down face with big brown eyes met his. And then there was a loud long scream. It was an impressive ear-piercing scream that went like this:

"AYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

The scream made him put his fingers in his ears and made his eyes water, but even with his ears blocked he could still hear the sound of the scream fading and feel running footsteps shake the floor. And then there was silence.

Monster struggled to get out from under the desk, but he was kind of jammed. He panicked and got up too quickly which lifted the entire desk and the workstation and flipped them upside down into a splintery pile of plastic, glass and fake wood laminate plastic material on the floor of his office. It was a huge mess! He stumbled out of the wreckage to make his way to the corridor, but the person with the little pink hands, the big brown eyes and the screwdriver was gone. And his workstation was in very bad shape. Or rather it was in maybe a hundred little mixed up shapes.

He sighed a heavy sigh. It was a very big sad sigh. He took out his pocket handkerchief and dusted off his face. And then he went to the Boss Monster's office and said: "I think I need a new system."

And that is how Monster met Monkey.

More about Monster

Monster was not your average monster. At least that is what he thought. Ever since Monster was little, he felt he was special in some way; not like all the other monsters. Monster grew up in a special place - Monster Island - the secret ancestral home of the scariest Monsters on Earth. Monster Island is actually a ring of volcanoes shrouded from human observation by a permanent curtain of radioactive volcanic ash. It's quite hot and stinky. A perfect monster habitat.

And his family was not your average monster family. Monster's Father was the Chief Monster on the Island. He was in charge of making all the rules that governed the various Monster clans that lived on the Island. He was the most fearsome and ferocious monster on the whole island. His mother was a kindergarten teacher. And all his siblings were rather accomplished in the specialties that Monsters practice.

But it's not easy being special. Particularly when people expect so much of you. Every monster, once they become of age, leaves home to become an Apprentice. Monsters are in high demand all over the world and have no trouble finding interesting things to do. Mostly, a monster's life's ambition is to scare people. But to do this and do it right, takes practice and training. Most young monsters start out under beds or in closets. Some actually work in the attics of houses, usually with a team of ghosts. Others work in Hollywood as special effects experts (those monsters are unionized). But Monster, our monster, wasn't interested in that kind of stuff. He wanted to do something more. But he didn't quite know what that was.

His father got very angry with him when he heard that Monster, his youngest child, was not interested in the very nice closet Apprenticeship that he had obtained for him due to his important connections. He thought that Monster was wasting all his monstrous talents and he didn't care about the important Monster traditions of his clan. One day they had a terrible fight. Monster told his father that he didn't want to scare people. He wanted to do something more. He told him that he wanted to become an artist. Monster's father got very upset about this and so he ordered Monster off the island forever.

And that is how Monster got to the big city. He didn't know the first thing about becoming an artist. So, he tried to go to nursing school. But he was rejected since he was unable to hold a thermometer in his claws. Then he tried becoming a teacher like his mom. But the sound of chalk squeaking on a blackboard drove him crazy and he couldn't do it. Poor Monster. He had no money, no place to live and the bright warm summer was quickly fading into a bleak and chilly autumn. He was on the verge of going back home and accepting the closet Apprenticeship when luckily, one of his childhood friends from the Island knew someone at the Dream Factory and got him a job. He had to start out very low, emptying the trash. He was actually a janitor for a while, sorting recycled dreams from the hopelessly unusable daydreams and having to wear thick rubber gloves and safety glasses to handle the nightmares.

Monster got his big break when one of the scary dream designers got sick and the Dream Team Leader was on vacation. That is when he designed his first bad dream. It was pretty bad. The supervisor noticed his talent right away and that week he got his dream job.

Monster goes to the Library

Monster lived in a small apartment in a very big city. He liked living in the big city because it was where he could be alone but not feel lonely. The city was filled with people from different countries who spoke different languages and dressed in different kinds of clothes, which made it easier for Monster to fit in. He was glad that he didn't live in a forest or a cave like monsters of old times. He liked the city with all the noise and dirt. He liked pizza and iced mochas and Chinese food delivered to your door. And he had a good job. He had a job working in a dream factory. His job was designing bad dreams.

It wasn't a bad job, really. It was creative and challenging. And he wasn't, like, in the Nightmare Department. These were just Bad dreams, mildly disturbing. He liked to think of them as "thought provoking". And he was good at his job. He had studied Campbell and Jung. He worked hard to make his dreams bad in different, subtle ways. Monster knew that there was nothing more satisfying as pulling the big release lever at the end of a long work day, knowing that a freshly minted set of really good bad dreams were on their way to the collective subconscious of the human race for the night.

But although Monster enjoyed his job, he had to work long hours and didn't have much time to play. Since people slept every night, he had to work every day. And every day it was the same, get up, go to work, come home, go to bed. Get up, go to work, come home, go to bed. Except on Saturdays afternoons between 2:00 and 5:00. That was his free time. Sometimes he liked to go to the park, collecting litter and chasing pigeons. Sometimes he liked to go to the recycling center and smash aluminum cans. But what he liked to do the most of all was to go to the library.

The big city had a very big library. Monster liked to take the subway because he loved trains and tunnels and the possibility of someone being electrocuted by the third rail. Now Monster was not a mean Monster, it's not that he wanted bad things to happen, it's just that he was a monster so he liked being around things like super high-voltage. He couldn't help it. He was attracted to fear and danger.

Anyway, Monster loved to go to the library. He had to wear a disguise, of course, because people on the street in the daytime are a bit wary of monsters. So, Monster would put a brown cardboard box over his head. It had two small eye-holes cut out and curves on two sides to rest on his shoulders. It worked like a charm. He also wore gloves to cover his claws and red high-top sneakers on his feet. And he tried not to drool too much because that would certainly give him away.

Monster liked the library because he loved books. He loved books of all colors and sizes. He loved the paperback mystery novels and the huge heavy atlases. He loved dictionaries and reference books and he loved fiction. But the thing he loved the most about books was the way that they tasted. You see, monsters eat books.

Every book tasted different depending on the words. The monster could only read by eating the words. But it was so much better than just reading by holding the book and looking at it. When he ate a book he actually experienced the story. It came alive inside his tummy, he could feel it, taste it and smell the story. His favorite books were fairy tales. They tasted the best, particularly the part where the handsome prince rescued the lady in distress. He liked the way their kisses tasted.

But you can imagine that the librarians would not be too happy if they found out that a monster was eating their books! The monster tried to only eat a couple books or so every week. And only books that seemed old and worn out. He was a monster, not a glutton.

He did it like this: He would walk into the library with a crowd of people, usually children, with the box over his head. Sometimes if the children were very small he would kind of hunch down so as not to be noticed. And then he would lurk in the dark part of the back aisle and wait hungrily, trying to mask the sound of his gurgling tummy by sneezing loudly once in a while.

He would wait until story hour was over. And then he would meander over to the picture book section and look for a well-worn book, not too big or not too little, with a faded spine and quickly remove it from the shelf, tucking it under his armpit. Then he would go into the rest room. The boys' restroom and hide in a toilet stall, with this feet up on the toilet. And in one swallow, he would eat the book. Sometimes he would burp. But always he would wash his hands afterwards.

Then he would walk outside and climb a tree. He would sit in the tree and close his eyes, tasting the story and it would be very lovely. It was blissful. For the next hour all the glorious stories in the book came to life inside him. It was like going to the movies but better because there weren't crying babies or people blocking your view of the screen. It was better because Monster could smell and taste and feel every detail of each book. But Monster was always worried that he would be caught and have to pay a fine for eating the book. So while the visit to the library was the best part of his week and the books were very tasty, he was always left with a very guilty conscience.

One Saturday afternoon, right after story hour, though, something happened. It was a special story hour because there were puppets. Monster wondered how a puppet would taste but then thought better of it. He had watched the whole show from the shadows of a back aisle of cookbooks and knew it was time to make his move. He was just about to put his claw into a large book of Norse myths when he felt a tapping on his back below his shoulder. It was the librarian! No, wait. It wasn't just any librarian, it was the Head Librarian.

The Head Librarian was a tiny white haired lady who had big glasses that were attached to a chain around her neck. She always wore a fuzzy sweater with some kleenex tucked into one sleeve. And she had a pencil balanced behind one ear. She was not tall enough to tap the Monster on the shoulder so she had tapped him on his ribs to get his attention.

"Excuse me," she said in a tiny crackling voice. "But I have noticed that you take the books and don't return them."

The Monster was horrified! They were watching him! He was sooo busted! And he was embarrassed and frightened.

"I'm sorry!" He said immediately. "I can't help it. It's how I read. Please don't kick me out of the library!" He pleaded.

"Oh." said the librarian. "Don't worry. Actually, we need your help."

"Really?" said the Monster, surprised.

"Yes, dear." said the librarian. I think that she didn't notice that he was a monster because the perscription for her glasses was about twenty years old. Also, the Monster loved it when she called him dear. No one had ever called him dear. But the librarian continued, "We have quite a few very old books that no one wants. And we must make room for new books because we don't have any more room. Would you like these books instead?"

"Sure!" said the Monster.

So the librarian led the monster to a closet in the basement where they kept the old books that no one wanted to read anymore and the monster pulled up a chair and started to eat them. But he had never eaten more than one book a day before. And what happened was that he got a very bad book-ache. The librarian had to make him a place to lie down on the couch in the office and got him a glass of water from the cooler.

After that, he developed a method where he would go to the library and pick out a book for each day of the week. The Saturday book he would eat in the tree. The other books he would bring home and stack them in his apartment and then he would eat one before going to bed at night. And that made him very happy.