Sad Monsters Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Introduction

  Questioning Godzilla’s Existence

  Missed Possessions

  The Yeti Wears Prada

  His Fangs Just Aren’t That into You

  The Mummy’s Curse: Cankles

  How to Find the Genie of Your Dreams

  The Best Tears of Your Life

  Learning from Your Teleporter Mistakes

  The Joy of Unicorns

  You Suck One Goat . . .

  Giant Ape Class-Action Lawsuit

  Groom of Frankenstein

  The Passive-Aggressive Monster in the Closet

  Diet Hansel

  Night of the Living

  The Werewolf Whisperer

  On-Again, Off-Again, Alive-Again

  To Sleep, Perchance to Drain - A Suicide Note from a Claw-Foot Bathtub

  When Bad Things Happen to Good Mer-People

  Unsuccessful Monsters

  The Riddle Artist - How to Seduce Any Sphinx

  Crypto-Racism

  St. Patrick’s Morning-After

  The Ordinary Spider-Man

  There’s a Sucker Born Every Minute

  Igor’s Résumé

  The Partisan Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

  The Invisible Hell of the Market

  Gremlin Owner’s Manual

  The Roommate of Dorian Gray

  Some Gorgons Have All the Luck

  The New York Art Show Massacre

  Whoa Oh, Here She Comes

  Dr. Van Helsing’s Patient Notes

  Gentlemen Prefer Blondes Who Aren’t Fifty Feet Tall

  Seeing Other Dead People

  Dearly Departed Departed

  Kids Slay the Darnedest Things

  A Living Dead Will

  Acknowledgements

  A PLUME BOOK

  SAD MONSTERS

  FRANK LESSER is an Emmy Award–winning writer for The Colbert Report who lives in New York City. He studied fiction and film at Brown University and edited the school’s humor magazine. While growing up in Columbus, Ohio, he was bullied by the monster under his bed, a situation that only got worse in high school when the monster stole his girlfriend.

  Praise for Sad Monsters

  “Delightful and definitive proof that the undead are just as unhappy as the rest of us.”

  —Seth Grahame-Smith, author of

  Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

  “If you ever encounter a werewolf, Frank Lesser’s hilarious, heartfelt collection of essays might make you think twice before screaming and running away. That’s too bad, because you’ll be killed instantly. Funny book, though.”

  —Ritch Duncan, coauthor, The Werewolf’s Guide To Life:

  A Manual for the Newly Bitten

  “Sad Monsters is utterly hilarious. Then scary. Then hilarious again.”

  —Scott Kenemore, author of The Zen of Zombie

  “Hilarious. Frank Lesser has done a great service to human monster relations.”

  —Bob Powers, coauthor, The Werewolf’s Guide To Life:

  A Manual for the Newly Bitten

  PLUME

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A. • Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England • Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) • Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) • Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi–110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) • Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by Plume, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, October 2011

  Copyright © Frank Lesser, 2011

  All rights reserved

  Illustrations by Willie Real

  “The Yeti Wears Prada” and “How to Find the Genie of Your Dreams” were first published in a slightly different form in Slate™ Magazine (www.slate.com).

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  Lesser, Frank.

  Sad monsters : growling on the outside, crying on the inside / Frank Lesser ; illustrations by Willie Real.

  p. cm.

  ISBN : 978-1-101-55116-5

  PN6231.M665L47 2011

  818’.602—dc22

  2011012704

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE AT QUANTITY DISCOUNTS WHEN USED TO PROMOTE PRODUCTS OR SERVICES. FOR INFORMATION PLEASE WRITE TO PREMIUM MARKETING DIVISION, PENGUIN GROUP (USA) INC., 375 HUDSON STREET, NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10014.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  For my mom and dad, and all the other monsters of my childhood

  WARNING

  Do not read this book if you have recently experienced monster-related heartbreak, especially if that heartbreak involved a werewolf and could better be described as “heartgnaw.”

  If a vampire broke up with you, your pet gremlin had to be put to sleep, or you regret undergoing that exorcism, reading this book may open old wounds, in many cases literally.

  If you are reading this and you are a sad monster, put down this book and seek help immediately.

  Growling on the Outside, Crying on the Inside: An Introduction

  Sometimes a wooden stake is just a wooden stake.

  —Vampire Sigmund Freud

  Many monsters suffer from psychological problems, although the warning signs can be easy to miss. Does that vampire stay in his crypt all day because sunlight will burn him to ashes, or because he has social anxiety disorder? Is that zombie always moaning about brains because she’s hungry, or is she projecting her insecurities about never going to college? Even more troubling, it’s nearly impossible to tell if an invisible man has been cutting himself.

  In the past, these monsters could turn to psychiatrists such as Vampire Sigmund Freud, who developed the ground breaking theory of the Edible Complex, which is when a zombie wants to eat his own mother. Unfortunately, Vampire Freud was staked by a vehemently anti-Freudian therapist in 1973, and today most monsters’ cries for help can’t be heard over the cries of their victims.

  In this book you will find monsters who are sad, misunderstood, discouraged, lonely, and in many cases demonized, particularly the demons. Perhaps someday you will realize that inside each of them is a human, or at least parts of one. Because these monsters hunger for more than man-flesh; they hunger for love. According to a recent study, nearly half of all werewolf attacks start as misguided hugs.


  So the next time you cross the street to avoid a Frankenstein staggering toward you, stop and ask yourself who the real monster is.

  Questioning Godzilla’s Existence

  September 3

  Woke up after twenty-year hibernation. Hate when I oversleep—meant to hibernate fifteen years, sixteen tops. Terrible crick in neck—must have slept on my tail wrong.

  March 8

  Wound up hitting snooze for six more months. Barely had enough energy to rampage to the bathroom, let alone through a city, but finally rolled out of bed and destroyed Tokyo. Again. Starting to wonder, what’s the point? They’re just going to rebuild.

  March 12

  Couldn’t sleep, so woke up early and went for a jog through Osaka. Kept wondering what happens to people after I stomp on them. Do they have souls that live on, that I can also stomp on? Or is the human soul unstompable? Maybe I’m just going through a midlife thing. Never had these worries during the Mesozoic era. When I was younger, each screaming villager felt like a triumph, like I was really doing something with my life. Now I just wish they’d shut up and accept it, or at least quit it with the antiaircraft missiles. Those things really irritate my eczema.

  March 16

  Having doubts about my place in the universe. Evolutionarily speaking, why should I feel the need to seek out populated cities and destroy them? I’m not eating the people for sustenance, and I’m not protecting my mating grounds. God, it’s been millennia since I even thought about mating. I used to see so much as an alligator and I’d at least think about asking it back to my lair. But now, it feels like more trouble than it’s worth. I’d probably run out of atomic breath before anything really got going, anyway.

  March 23

  Son of Godzilla never calls anymore. Was I a bad parent? I guess I could have spent more time with him tossing around the old football stadium. Maybe I’m depressed. I tried to talk to Rodan about my feelings, but he just screeched and batted his wings at me. Sometimes he can be fun, but most of the time he’s not just a huge pterodactyl, he’s a huge asshole.

  March 27

  Had plans to destroy Kyoto with Mothra, but ended up staying in and watching M*A*S*H reruns. Tried to selfmedicate by eating a pharmaceutical factory. Efficacy of drugs may have been limited by the fact that they were on fire.

  April 1

  For April Fool’s, figured I would help rebuild Tokyo, really surprise inhabitants. It worked—they threw a parade in my honor. But the whole time, all I could think was, “Does God exist?” Man, I wish I could focus on something else. It’s been ages since I’ve had to fight a robot version of myself from space.

  April 3

  Tried a change of scenery. Swam to California. Met a friendly giant squid along the way, but ran out of things to talk about once we covered tentacles and swimming underwater.

  April 6

  LA was a mistake. Everyone here is so flaky; you can barely rely on them to scream in terror. Staying at the former site of the Beverly Hills Hotel, currently the Beverly Hills smoking crater. Decided to try a different change of scenery: stacked all the buildings in Los Angeles on top of each other to form one giant skyscraper, but before I could destroy it, I was filled with overwhelming ennui. Maybe destroying life has no meaning?

  April 11

  Back in Japan. Hate how messy cave gets when I’m away on vacation. Rodan stopped by to see if I wanted to play life-sized Monopoly, but I pretended I wasn’t home. Mothra called, invited me to come out with her. Didn’t feel like it, but she insisted, and I wound up having more fun than I’ve had in eons. Turns out, we have a lot in common. Sure, I’m a giant prehistoric lizard and she’s a giant moth, but we’ve decided to focus on the giant part. The other stuff’s just details. Of course, if things don’t work out, I could lose not only a friend but also an ally in my battles with the three-headed monster King Ghidorah. Anyway, we’re getting dinner next week. Probably Japanese.

  Missed Possessions

  Succubus in search of physical relationship— No strings attached—(Lower East Side)

  Saw you sleeping last weekend when I was drawn to your bedchamber by your darkest desires. But the timing wasn’t right—I had just gotten out of another nocturnal visitation. Please write me back. I’m desperate to enter your room while you slumber, have my way with you, and spawn human-demon hybrids with your seed. And then maybe spoon?

  I want you inside me—(Williamsburg)

  Sorry I called that exorcist. I don’t know—I think I just freaked out because things were moving so fast. Specifically, my head around my body. Willing to give it another shot, if you’re not already seeing the insides of someone else.

  Basement of the Metropolitan museum— (Upper East Side)

  You: Rugged archaeologist, with Indiana Jones–meets naughty-priest vibe. Me: Introverted demon of unspeakable evil, lurking within ancient artifact forged in the furnace of a thousand shrieking souls. Saw you yesterday in the storage room and immediately wanted to inhabit your body, but was too shy. Interested in dinner? I’ll cook, if you bring the still-beating human heart.

  Monkey’s paw needs helping hand— (Jackson Heights)

  Swami, where are you? You only used one wish, then disappeared the next day. Was it something I said/granted in an unexpectedly horrifying manner?

  Great timing, bad aim—(Chelsea)

  I have called to you ceaselessly through your waking hours, through your dreams, drawing you to the curio shop’s mysterious object in which my black soul is forever imprisoned so I could meld with your personality and reinstate my rule on the plane of mortals. But I accidentally melded with the shopkeeper, Christopher, who was standing next to you. If you’re still interested in what I have to offer (eternal life, dominion over the pitiful few who survive my Return), grab Christopher’s hand while chanting “Chigurraesth qliphoth og-godash,” and then decapitate him. You complete me, and also you complete my plan to rule the world of the living from this land of shadows.

  Re: I want you inside me—(Williamsburg)

  Sometimes, Diane, I wonder whether those were tears in your eyes, or just holy water. But even with that exorcism, it wasn’t just the power of Christ that compelled me to leave. Sorry. If you want your memories back, e-mail me at [email protected]. (Dorothy’s nothing serious—just a friend I’m staying in.)

  Missing U—(Woodlawn)

  I miss you so much. Since you left, all I do is sit around the house all night wailing. If you read this, don’t think something terrible will happen if you write me: [email protected].

  Ouija board, Beta Alpha Delta sorority— (Long Island University)

  Tell me if I’m misinterpreting what happened last night, but after you levitated the board and made Marcy speak in tongues, you spelled out “I LIKE YOUR SKIRT” and moved the planchette in my direction. Were you flirting with me? I didn’t catch your name, since Susan freaked out after you told her she was going to die before second semester. Something with a C? You can find me on Facebook.

  Re: Re: I want you inside me—(Williamsburg)

  I hope I’m not intruding, but I wanted to say that Diane treated you wrong . . . and also that you sound cute. :) I just ended things with a Japanese fog spirit (I always felt suffocated), but would you like to meet up? I know an out of-the-way desecrated church with great Communion wine spritzers. Oh—and feel free to bring Dorothy in case you want to corrupt the trinity . . . : )

  Not ready to be Rosemary’s Baby-Daddy— (Upper West Side)

  Dear R.—I’m sorry things ended so abruptly. I guess I kind of just freaked when you showed me the ultrasound and I saw it had my horns. I know, I know—this is what I said I always wanted, and I thought that after ageless eons of existence I was ready to be a father of something besides lies. But I guess I was only deceiving myself. Ironic, huh?

  The Yeti Wears Prada

  Dear Sir or Madam:

  I am writing this letter of reference on behalf of Tulpa Snarlgrowl. Although you may know him be
tter as “The Abominable Snowman,” let me begin by assuring you that there is nothing abominable about his work ethic. He will make an excellent editorial assistant at Vogue.

  I have known Tulpa for many years in my official capacity as a cryptozoological researcher. I have watched him. I have studied him. And, yes, I have hunted him. But what I found hanging upside down in my snare trap wasn’t some sort of monstrous missing link. What I found was a hardworking go-getter with a big heart, although I believe that heart may have originally belonged to the missing mountaineer Sir Basil Heathersmoor.

  Tulpa has proven himself to be exceptionally detail oriented, especially when the details involve stripping every last morsel of flesh from a carcass. I’m sure he would be equally proficient at picking apart the latest fall fashions. He has a great eye for design, as evidenced by the artful arrangement of bones in his tastefully blood-smeared cave. And ever since he came across a copy of your magazine on the body of my research assistant, the late Horace Mapleham, it’s been impossible to pry either it or Horace’s body away from him.