Life in the Tiki Bar.
Gino
Swimming with friends!
Luna
Ride the Gato! I finally caught your monster in action!
Tina
My living room! Donna
Donna
This is probably bizarre, but I wanted to give you a sense of where some of your creations have been “rehomed” and how I’ve come to know them.
I promise I’m not crazy, as most crazy people do.
Deanna
This is Mr. Bunny. He was hiding at the trunk of a tree when I found him. I don’t know quite what he is— whether he’s bunny, bat, cricket, or squirrel – and neither does he.
He does know that he’s prey and all he ever thinks about is if he should run or be still. He’s stuck somewhere in between. Right now, he’s unsuccessfully trying to camouflage himself in the ivy. He’s scared of the other monsters because they can fly.
Little does he know, he’s the most startling of all.
This is Slipper, not quite Flipper. He fits in perfectly atop the branches that sprout from the honeypot, precisely because he’s perpetually out of place. He’s not pouting or being a smart aleck. In fact, there’s nothing behind his smile, or his big blue eyes for that matter.
He’s a rare marine specimen, so stupid he can’t find water. If he ever fell into water, I imagine he’d feel quite at home. Mind and body would finally exist in harmony were he to bask in the nothingness of a vast ocean. Obviously, he would not have the words to describe this. He has no words.
Todd is the newest admit. I didn’t quite choose him but when adopting Mr. Bunny, a friend of mine took pity on Todd. She said he looked so nice I couldn’t possibly leave him behind. So it is with Todd. He’d really be a winner if it weren’t for his unfortunate effect on people. You like Todd, everyone does, of course, but more so you feel sorry for him. So really you just feel quite awkward around him. He’s pathetic but you feel terrible for saying so and so you just avoid him. He’s the nicest monster in the house but everyone keeps their distance. He sits near Rankin and tries to make pleasant conversation, but Rankin is aloof in a spritely way. He’s also intent on making friends with Slipper. This is his best bet, but unlikely to be fruitful as Slipper is also off in his own world and there’s little hope he’ll ever find his way to ours. Nonetheless, Todd will never cease to be shockingly positive and maybe years down the line he’ll find a friend.
Rankin lives among fairies.
He’s the only beautiful one of them all.
He’s pure and aery. He’s only with us because he saw Franklin falling from the sky and in his lighthearted, curious way, he decided to fly about.
He’s sweet but altogether unconcerned with the affairs of this world.
He’s a thing to be admired, but never broached.
This is Mr. Frump, a relic of the Trump era. He doesn’t care for politics but he’s a horned beast and they’re always being politicized. I think he’s an outcast of the flying purple people monster species. People close to me have realized monsters are great gifts, and he was just that.
I’d expressed interest in the Bluebird of Aggressiveness, but I guess someone else adopted him. So I got Frump, who is much less aggressive and hungry. A spider without a web, he sits above the vacuum corner waiting for prey. He’s not a strong flier and by the time some poor creature wanders close enough to him, he loses sight of them on account of his horn obstructing his view. He doesn’t eat much.
Franklin really started this whole mess. I walked under his tree in search of a mug (some generic gift for a generic someone) and he nearly fell on my head. At first, I thought he leapt but then I realized he really is just performing a controlled fall. I was immediately charmed by his chaotic, clumsy personality.
He’s not trying to be silly or funny, but he’s constantly mistaken for being so, and so he’s treated well in the end. He even drew the attention of Rankin, which is no small feat. He’ll never hit the ground, but he hasn’t come to terms with that yet, so I think he might scream forever.
This is Persimmons. He’s really an Eeyore of a monster. He’s anxious and hopeless. He should be hanging but either he forgot how to fly or I forgot to hang him. Neither of us are sure.
He was adopted alongside Lupus, and he’ll never really recover. They don’t sit together but they might as well because you can’t really remember who’s who. They’re like fraternal twins that share one identity which is totally comprised of their being two.
Persimmons sadly watches Lupus spinning in place from across the room, wishing to be there but not knowing what it would really change.
Lupus is Persimmons’ other half, and that’s about all there is to him. He has an altogether happy demeanor, but he brings bad luck wherever he goes. He spends his days thinking about sinking his teeth into something nice and fluffy, and wonders what it would be like.
As he daydreams, he spins idly on his string, occasionally catching glances of his friend Persimmons over on the shelf. He’d wave to Persimmons or flash him a smile, but the thought doesn’t occur to him until he’s already lost sight of his cheerless friend. And so he goes.
This is Mr. Puce. He’s the favorite and he knows it, not that he cares. Mr. Puce doesn’t really care about much at all. He would be mischievous, but it would really require a little too much effort for his taste.
He just hangs around, a loner not by design, but rather from an altogether lack of ambition to mingle.
He occupies the coveted spot in the apartment, above my desk and under the hoya.