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.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
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.
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.
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