Monster Chronicles

Frankenstein reclined awkwardly on the psychiatrist’s couch.  It was made for a man half his size and no matter how hard he tried, he could not get comfortable.  Of course, his comfort issues were internal. And that’s why he was there.

“I HAVE MUMMY ISSUES.”

The psychiatrist looked up from her pad and said, “You mean, “mommy” issues?”

” NO MUMMY ISSUES. I CAN’T GET THAT DAM’ MUMMY TO GET OFF MY COUCH AND KEEP RAIDING MY FRIDGE.”

So began the 45th therapy session for one Mr. Frankenstein.  The psychiatrist scribbled madly into her notebook.  Her life had gotten much more complicated when he had walked through her office door.  In fact, she had screamed when he walked through her door.

“NOBODY LIKES ME.  HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF PEOPLE SCREAMED WHEN YOU WALKED IN THE DOOR?”

The psychiatrist blushed.

“HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF VILLAGERS CAME AFTER YOU WITH TORCHES AND PITCHFORKS?”

The psychiatrist looked up again from her notebook. Making eye contact with Frankenstein was not the easiest thing to do. “It’s not about me, Mr. Frankenstein.”

Frankenstein made a grunting noise.  In fact, that was part of his early problem. Due to a speech impediment, he scared people just when he tried to talk. Two years of speech therapy had allowed him to become quite articulate.

IGOR MAKES FUN OF ME.  HE HASN’T LIKED ME SINCE I TOLD HIM TO HAVE A HAPPY HUMP DAY.  HE SCREAMED AT ME THAT HE WASN’T QUASIMODO.

There was a brief pause while Frankenstein wiped his eyes.

I’M JUST MISUNDERSTOOD. I’M NOT A MONSTER. I’M JUST A HUMAN BEING.

The psychiatrist closed her notebook and said, “Time’s up. See you next week.”

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Ichabod Crane’s horse galloped wildly toward the bridge.  If he could just make the bridge.  The Headless Horseman was gaining on him.  Crane didn’t dare look behind him, but if he had, he would’ve noticed the Jack O’ Lantern being raised.  His heart raced.  The bridge was in sight.

Crane pulled back the reins, stopped his horse and leapt off, rolling on the ground when he hit.  The horse continued to run across the bridge as Ichabod ran to the side.

It was time to set the trap.

He found the rope and pulled it with all his might.  He looped it around the bridge post.  The Jack O’ Lantern fell harmlessly on the bridge’s deck, scattering into a million orange pieces.  “Use a gun not a pumpkin next time, you idiot,” thought Crane as he tied the rope. Then came the horse and rider.  Who never saw the rope.

The horse tumbled and the Headless Horsemen flew over the stallion’s head.  He hit in a heap next to the horse on the bridge.  Ichabod crane ran over to him and gave him a quick punch to heart, knocking the wind out of the Horseman.

While Ichabod Crane was seen as a wimp by the townspeople, he was a black-belt in Karate.  The Horseman moaned in pain. Crane did a roundhouse kick and knocked him back to the ground.  When he hit, his costume came loose revealing Abraham “Brom Bones” Van Brunt.

“Hessian solider my  *ss.” Crane spat. “Stay away from Katrina. She’s mine.”  He punched Van Brunt in the face, knocking him out.

And that night, Ichabod Crane, Ninja, vanquished a bully. It was the untold legend of Sleepy Hollow.

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In a Coastal bar, Dracula and a shark sat watching Monday Night Football.  A bartender walks up and asks, “Who ordered the Bloody Mary?”

Both went into a frenzy.

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The Bride of Frankenstein (BOF) was at the same bar and wearing a low cut dress. She was on a mission. Since her and Frankenstein’s divorce, she was back on the dating scene.  She was out to find a new man. Or a monster.

The Wolf Man was lapping his drink out of a bowl and scratching a flea behind his ear.  He saw BOF standing seductively in the door.  He loved the way light illuminated her crazy eyes. His heart started the pound.

The bartender held up a Coors Beer and said, “WHO ORDERED THE SILVER BULLET?”

The Wolf Man dove under the table.

BOF walked over and peered at the handsome stranger. “You come here often?”

“Only during a Full Moon. And you? BTW, I love what you’re doing with your hair. Very electric.”

BOF wasn’t wasting any time.  “Let’s go dance.”

Later than night, BOF sat at the bar, alone while the bartender cleaned glasses.  He looked at her and said, “Looks like you’ve had a rough night.  Where’s your canine friend?”

“I told him to get lost. He kept humping my leg.”

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Casper the Friendly Ghost was on CNN being interviewed by Piers Morgan.  Studio lights made him glow:

Piers Morgan:  What makes you so friendly?

Casper: I used to be Casper the Moody and Grumpy Ghost but my doctor changed my medication. I now take Xanax.  In fact, some days I’m Casper the Mellow Ghost.

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Zombies marched down the Washington Mall.  Park Police fired at them, but to no avail. It was a “Million-Zombie March.” And they were hungry.

They went up the steps of the first building they came to and marched up looking for their meal of brains.

But unfortunately they entered the halls of Congress.

They went home hungry.