Monster's Wake

[thetruedryer]

A religious monster, while uncommon, is far from unheard of. Skreetor the Devourer, a monster lurking under the bed of one Timothy Adams, was Jewish monster turned devout-Catholic. He converted to appease his wife, but his faith was in way forced. While his friends hardly approved of the marriage, Skreetor was happy with the changes to his life.

Sadly, his married bliss was short-lived. While at work, Skreetor had a massive stroke, reducing him to a comatose state. The monster from inside the closet found Skreetor’s body and brought it back to the monster realm, where he was confirmed deceased two hours later.

Skreetor’s wake took place in late August one Sunday afternoon. His wife, Clegarr had insisted that he be laid to rest in the Kruger Cathedral, in spite of her husband’s Jewish heritage. It was a fine place for a service, with beautiful architecture and a fine bell, yet the building cast an ominous shadow. Skreetor’s friends had been nothing but kind to Clegarr, yet her monopolization of the ceremony made everyone uneasy.

A taxi pulled up to the Cathedral ten minutes before the ceremony. A monstrous, ox-like creature emerged from the side of the taxi, dressed in a deep navy suit. The creature, going by the name Gorlack, went inside the Cathedral with the rest of his monster brethren.

Gorlack looked down at his enormous black shoes. He knew that, if Skreetor were alive, he wouldn’t have had to wear anything special. Gorlack looked up to see a wolf-like figure in a tuxedo approaching him, carrying a glass full of water.

“Hey Gorlack,” said Ulfor, his voice deep and raspy. “How’s it going?”

“Okay I guess, but my feet are killing me. Seriously, I had these shoes custom-made using a frying pan as a base, and my feet still can’t breathe in these things.” Gorlack looked at Ulfor’s glass. “Hey, did they break out the refreshments already?”

“Huh? Oh, the cup.” Ulfor stuck his slobbery tongue into the glass. “It’s a hot day, and I’m not used to wearing layers. Better to have a cup handy than drip everywhere, am I right?”

“Guess so,” Gorlack replied. “So, how’s work been?”

“Oh, it’s been great,” Ulfor responded. “And guess what? I got promoted to a Nightscaper position!”

“Seriously? Dude, that’s amazing.”

“I know!” Ulfor tried his best to keep his tail from wagging. “It’s so much better than just being a Howler. I mean yeah, you get fresh air either way, but this is terrorizing a neighborhood. Like, earlier this week, I was hiding in the bushes, and this human on a bike was coming up the street. When I jumped out to scare him, he freaked out so badly he ran straight into a car!”

“Oh my God!” Gorlack’s deep, boisterous laughter echoed about the room. “What happened to the human after that? Did he die?”

“Nah, the car wasn’t even going that fast. I mean, it’s a residential area, so that’s to be expected. The humans in the car were actually nice enough to drive him to the hospital. Still, it has hysterical. I wish I could’ve made his scream my ringtone. He sounded like a little girl.”

“You’re too much, Ulfor.” Gorlack was more than a little jealous of Ulfor. While Ulfor was sleek and stealthy enough to terrorize humans during the night, Gorlack was built like a van from the sixties: huge and loud. Luckily he was built strong rather than thick, unlike Skreetor, who had let him body go during his marriage. Of course, a gelatinous mass can only stay so thin.

Gorlack heard a door shut behind him. Into the Cathedral walked what could only be described as a hideous hybrid of a gorilla and a lizard, wearing thick black sunglasses and smelling of Old Spice.

“Andirogg!” Ulfor ran over to him, resisting the urge to go on all fours. “It’s been forever. How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good,” Andirogg replied. He noticed Gorlack, still standing where he and Ulfor had been talking. “Hey, Gorlack. Gorlack! Get over here!”

“I am, just give me a minute. These shoes are killing me.”

TBC

[thetruedryer]

As soon as Gorlack reached his friends, Andirogg gave him a suffocating hug. Gorlack had to wrench himself free, as was always the case with Andirogg’s hugs. He was a gentle soul, but he hardly knew his own strength.

“Dude, you are in great shape,” Ulfor told Andirogg. “But I guess that’s what happens when you live in the mountains, right?”

“Yeah, they keep me busy in Colorado. Admittedly business slowed down a bit after the forest-fire season, but I think things will be back to normal by the time I get back.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Gorlack said. “Stupid campers. Why can’t they keep track of their fires?”

“Actually, forest fires aren’t caused by campers very often,” explained Andirogg. “Sometimes the trees get really dry, and on hot enough days that’s enough to start a fire.”

“Oh. Interesting.” Gorlack’s attempt at breaching the conversation had failed.

Andirogg snapped his long-nailed fingers. “I just remembered the surprise I had to tell you. Do you remember Sapius, the local Bigfoot? I introduced you guys when you came to visit me, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Ulfor replied. “He was a cool guy. Ridiculously good at pool, too.”

“Yeah,” Gorlack said, “but I managed to beat him. Remember?”

“Oh I remember,” Andirogg replied condescendingly. “You beat him in the last game, after six losses. Plus he’d been drinking.”

“So was I,” Garlock whimpered.

“Anyway,” Andirogg went on, “Sapius ended up getting shot in the knee, so they needed to find another Bigfoot. And guess who got the part?”

“Aw, sick!” Ulfor and Andirogg attempted a high-five, made awkward by the paw-like quality of Ulfor’s hands. “So I guess that means you’re moonlighting as an actor now, right?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Well good for you,” said Gorlack. A lump formed in his throat. “You know, I remember when Skreetor –”

As Gorlock spoke, a vampiric bat-like creature swooped down to his side. That creature was Clegarr the Devourer, wearing a plaster smile and a black dress.

“Hey, I’m so glad you could make it. What are we talking about?”

[Steven Hunley]

I think what's goin' on with me here is that I like the writing, but like a Russian novel
I'm having a problem keeping the names straight! That's why I stopped reading Russian novels! Ya got any others with girls named Jill and guys named Jim?

[MystyrMystyry]

Good point Steve. It becomes confusing and a trial to try and remember who's who. You need to periodically reiterate particular characteristics like say, the 'green' Andirog, the 'towering' Gorlack or the 'blackeyed' Sapirus. You have to help the reader,

Evelyn Waugh's novel Decline and Fall had about twenty characters' names all beginning with 'P'. He may have thought it an amusing idea when he wrote it, but it's now known as the Waugh mistake. This isn't that bad, but it's good to remember that the reader wants to move forward, not keep flipping back and forth to remind themself who's who

[Steven Hunley]

Yes, I agree. In the case of Russian novels we had a couple of factors against us. Number one- they had names so foreign and hard to pronounce they were a pain. Two- the formal names often gave way to pet names. Shortened sometimes and sometimes even more complex, like Robert turnng into Bob in English. Three- you had more than two characters to keep track of.

The challenge here might be to give each character a name that reflects some aspect of his physical make-up or mental attributes. If he's fat, name him Fatty, or something more subtle, naturally.

I once had a professor who taught Falkner, nothing but Faulkner. He'd chain smoke cigarettes and crush them out on the soles of his loafers.

"Name me words that start with SN," he told the class. The class got busy and as they called words out he wrote them on the board.

SNAP SNIDE-SNAPPY-SNUFF-SNIFF- SNOT-SNOTTY-SNUB-SNICKER-ETC.

As a class we began to notice a pattern emerge.

"You'll notice," he continued, "that they all have to do with the nose, and that as a class, none of them have good connotations"

We agreed.

"So what is the bad-guys last name?"

"SNOPES" we shout like a chorus.

"And what is his first name?"

"FLEM. FLEM SNOPES," we respond and he stubs the butt out on his shoe.

CLASS DISMISSED

[thetruedryer]

Thanks for the feedback. I'm re-posting what I've already written, with changes to the names and other details, as well as some new material:


A religious monster, while uncommon, is far from unheard of. Goobler the Devourer, a slime monster lurking under the bed of one Timothy Adams, was Jewish monster turned devout-Catholic. He converted to appease his wife, but his faith was in way forced. While his friends hardly approved of the marriage, Goobler was happy with the changes to his life.

Sadly, his married bliss was short-lived. While at work, Goobler had a massive stroke, reducing him to a comatose state. The monster from inside the closet found Goobler’s body and brought it back to the monster realm, where he was confirmed deceased two hours later.

Goobler’s wake took place in late August one Sunday afternoon. His wife, Vampra had insisted that he be laid to rest in the Kruger Cathedral, in spite of her husband’s Jewish heritage. It was a fine place for a service, with beautiful architecture and a fine bell, yet the building cast an ominous shadow. Goobler’s friends had been nothing but kind to Vampra, yet her monopolization of the ceremony made everyone uneasy.

A taxi pulled up to the Cathedral ten minutes before the ceremony. A monstrous, brown ox-like creature emerged from the side of the taxi, dressed in a deep navy suit. The creature, going by the name Oxface, went inside the Cathedral with the rest of his monster brethren.

Oxface looked down at his enormous black shoes. He knew that, if Goobler were alive, he wouldn’t have had to wear anything special. Oxface looked up to see a navy blue, wolf-like figure in a tuxedo approaching him, carrying a glass full of water.

“Hey Oxface,” said Razor-Wolf, his voice deep and raspy. “How’s it going?”

“Okay I guess, but my feet are killing me. Seriously, I had these shoes custom-made using a frying pan as a base, and my feet still can’t breathe in these things.” Oxface looked at Razor-Wolf’s glass. “Hey, did they break out the refreshments already?”

“Huh? Oh, the cup.” Razor-Wolf stuck his slobbery tongue into the glass. “It’s a hot day, and I’m not used to wearing layers. Better to have a cup handy than drip everywhere, am I right?”

“Guess so,” Oxface replied. “So, how’s work been?”

“Oh, it’s been great,” Razor-Wolf responded. “And guess what? I got promoted to a Nightscaper position!”

“Seriously? Dude, that’s amazing.”

“I know!” Razor-Wolf tried his best to keep his tail from wagging. “It’s so much better than just being a Howler. I mean yeah, you get fresh air either way, but this is terrorizing a neighborhood. Like, earlier this week, I was hiding in the bushes, and this human on a bike was coming up the street. When I jumped out to scare him, he freaked out so badly he ran straight into a car!”

“Oh my God!” Oxface’s deep, mooing laughter echoed about the room. “What happened to the human after that? Did he die?”

“Nah, the car wasn’t even going that fast. I mean, it’s a residential area, so that’s to be expected. The humans in the car were actually nice enough to drive him to the hospital. Still, it has hysterical. I wish I could’ve made his scream my ringtone. He sounded like a little girl.”

“You’re too much, Razor-Wolf.” Oxface was more than a little jealous of Razor-Wolf. While Razor-Wolf was sleek and stealthy enough to terrorize humans during the night, Oxface was built like a van from the sixties: huge and loud. Luckily he was built strong rather than thick, unlike Goobler, who had let him body go during his marriage. Of course, a gelatinous mass can only stay so thin.

Oxface heard a door shut behind him. Into the Cathedral walked what could only be described as a hideous hybrid of a gorilla and a lizard, wearing thick black sunglasses and smelling of Old Spice.

“Andi!” Razor-Wolf ran over to him, resisting the urge to go on all fours. “It’s been forever. How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good,” Androsaur replied. He noticed Oxface, still standing where he and Razor-Wolf had been talking. “Hey, Oxface. Oxface! Get over here!”

“I am, just give me a minute. These shoes are killing me.” As soon as Oxface reached his friends, Androsaur gave him a suffocating hug. Oxface had to wrench himself free, as was always the case with Androsaur’s hugs. He was a gentle soul, but he hardly knew his own strength.

“Dude, you are in great shape,” Razor-Wolf told Androsaur. “But I guess that’s what happens when you live in the mountains, right?”

“Yeah, they keep me busy in Colorado. Admittedly business slowed down a bit after the forest-fire season, but I think things will be back to normal by the time I get back.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Oxface said. “Stupid campers. Why can’t they keep track of their fires?”

“Actually, forest fires aren’t caused by campers very often,” explained Androsaur. “Sometimes the trees get really dry, and on hot enough days that’s enough to start a fire.”

“Oh. Interesting.” Oxface’s attempt at breaching the conversation had failed.

Androsaur snapped his long-nailed fingers. “I just remembered the surprise I had to tell you. Do you remember Sapius, the local Bigfoot? I introduced you guys when you came to visit me, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Razor-Wolf replied. “He was a cool guy. Ridiculously good at pool, too.”

“Yeah,” Oxface said, “but I managed to beat him. Remember?”

“Oh I remember,” Androsaur replied condescendingly. “You beat him in the last game, after six losses. Plus he’d been drinking.”

“So was I,” Garlock whimpered.

“Anyway,” Androsaur went on, “Sapius ended up getting shot in the knee, so they needed to find another Bigfoot. And guess who got the part?”

“Aw, sick!” Razor-Wolf and Androsaur attempted a high-five, made awkward by the paw-like quality of Razor-Wolf’s hands. “So I guess that means you’re moonlighting as an actor now, right?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Well good for you,” said Oxface. A lump formed in his throat. “You know, I remember when Goobler –”

As Gorlock spoke, a vampiric bat-like creature swooped down to his side. That creature was Vampra the Devourer, wearing a plaster smile and a black dress.

“Hey, I’m so glad you could make it. What are we talking about?”

“We were just catching up is all,” Androsaur said. “Oxface, what were you about to say?”

“Well…” Oxface was uncertain that it was a good idea to discuss Goobler’s past in front of his wife. He turned towards Androsaur, hoping that Vampra would take the hint and leave. “I was saying that your job reminded me of when me and Goobler were extras in those old horror movies.”

Vampra gave a forced cackle. “You still think about those movies? They were so awful! I’m so glad I talked Goobler into quitting before the film company went bankrupt.” She sighed. “If only he had managed to find some more interesting work than a bed-monster position.”

“Closet-monster,” said Oxface.

“I beg your pardon?”

“He was a closet monster. I’m a bed-monster. People get the two confused, but they’re both very different occupations.”

She narrowed her eyes at Oxface. “Of course they’re different. Same pay though, and neither one is much better than unemployment, if you ask me.”

“I guess not. Not these days, anyway.” Oxface knew that Vampra wasn’t trying to be rude. She had grown up wealthy and cultured, as most vampiric monsters do. Few upper-class creatures could understand the art that was professional scaring, yet they were fully aware of its economic downturn.

“I don’t know,” Adirogg commented, “About the movies, not the bed-monster-closet-monster thing. I mean, the CGI the animators used for the humans wasn’t great, but you and Goobler were the best actors in those flicks. Do you remember The Beast in the Fog?”

“You mean my last movie? You actually remember the title?”

“Yeah. I base my Bigfoot performance off of your character.”

Oxface was shocked. That movie barely had a budget, and Oxface had been critical of every actor’s performance, yet his performance was being emulated by a local celebrity.”

“Back up there,” said Vampra. “Did you say Bigfoot?”

“Oh yeah,” Androsaur replied, “I was telling the guys that they promoted me to the acting Bigfoot of the Colorado mountain area. I mean, I guess that doesn’t make me a real actor, but –”

“No,” Vampra exclaimed, “but it does make you a performance artist.” Vampra waddled closer to Androsaur. She looked at him as if she were measuring a canvas. “Have you thought about branching out? Maybe auditioning for an independent film?”

“Not really,” Androsaur replied. Sensing Vampra’s interest, he puffed out his broad chest. “I might think it over, though. Maybe we should exchange email, so I can let you know what I find.”

“I’d like that,” Vampra whispered. She looked at her watch. “Oh my God, the service is in five minutes! I need to touch base with the caterers.” She spread out her wings and flew away, without as much as a goodbye.

Razor-Wolf’s jaw dropped, nearly splattering drool all over the floor. “What was that?”

Androsaur looked to Oxface, then to Razor-Wolf. “What was what?”

“You, flirting with a dead man’s wife. Our dead friend’s wife.”

“Flirting? I wasn’t –” Androsaur lowered his raised chest. “I wasn’t flirting, I was being friendly. What was I supposed to do, back off and remind her of her dead husband?”

“Yes!”

Androsaur pondered Razor-Wolf’s statement. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“Well it is,” Razor-Wolf hissed. “Besides, she’ll do as much good for you as she did for Goobler. Oxface knows; he can tell you what she put Goobler through.”

Oxface wanted no part in this argument. “We should probably start heading to the ceremony now.”

“Don’t wuss out,” Razor-Wolf growled. “Tell Andi what he’s getting himself into.”

“I will, okay? Just not right now.” Oxface took a breath. “Come on guys, let’s get this over with.”

TBC