Monstrous

I’m a monster. You’ll never know me. I’m not one of those cute, movie monsters. I’m not celebrated like the classics – King Kong, or Godzilla.

You’ll never catch me driving a monster truck.

Not a collectible, or cuddly, you’ll never see plush toys of me resting on a child’s pillow. I’m not one you’d find lurking under children’s beds or haunting their nightmares. That’s for rookies.

I like a challenge I can sink my teeth into. Many adults have awakened screaming after my visit. Comes with the territory. Nothing like it.

Forget Manga. No one will draw a comic book adventure of my life. Now, mangle I can get behind.

Few in the upper reaches of society (you know, humans), know about the caste system for monsters. Like with anything, there’s a hierarchy. There are stars like Frankenstein, Shrek and the like. Look for me? You find me at the bottom, unnoticed, and not considered nor seen. There is nothing due me. I am the least of the least. Bottom feeders soar over me. Down beneath the dregs there is no designation for me but ‘abysmal.’

You’ll never see me. I reflect no light and don’t appear in mirrors. You might glimpse me, a fleeting shadow, followed by an unexplainable chill.

Blame my contorted psyche, but my sense of reality is no truer than a funhouse mirror. Trust what I tell you at your own risk.

It’s no surprise that monsters beget monsters. Despite being subject to the laws of cause and effect my origins are obscure. That said, I’m the odious offspring of Curious and Strange. What attracted them to each other will remain forever shrouded in mystery.

It is our parents, those models of propriety with whom we are most intimate, who curdle our sense of the world. Those within our closest reach instruct us how to embrace our dreadful nature. The nails you hear screeching on a blackboard echo back through generations.

Our nascent concepts of reality are not scrawled onto a blank slate, but on one deeply etched and long ago. Early on, I knew my creators were also hideous creations. From where else would such revulsion arise?

Like generates like. Adonis never sprang from a toad. Nor did Venus bear a newt. The dominos never stop toppling.

Who would be surprised at what I became, if my inherited sense of self were known? Via ‘free will,’ doesn’t the creator rationalize his own flaws? The potter shouts, ‘Don’t blame me for those chipped plates. They came out from the kiln that way. It’s their own doing.’

Yeah, right.

How dare our appalling parents call us monsters? After creating me, they can then sit in judgment? If I’m grotesque, did they not contribute to my detestable state? How is it ever the created entity’s fault? I bear their grisly stamp.

I’m a freak. Therefore, I am.

Regardless the source of my flaws, I own them. I am the monster that I am.

Everyone knows most newborns are not treated with loathing. Our earliest experiences set the course of our lives. For an innocent always bathed in the swill of revulsion, that tepid stew came to feel like love.

That set the tone for my miscreant self. Knowing nothing else, I came to crave that primal disgust. And when found scarce, I sought it with an addict’s obsession.

When threatened, I survive however I can.

Over time I found I only needed to reveal my hideous self to a likely prospect. Arriving with a generous dollop of surprise, the victims do all the work. My grotesque and inhuman presence serves its purpose.

Once I generate terror, my tension eases and I relax again.

I’m in good company. The audience for horror movies grows each year.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not bragging elevated status through some inversion of values. I’m not competing. I won’t say I’m a better bad, or a worse perverse.

But the sewers? Do I brandish my address as located in the more desirable sewer? Of course, some dirt is more desirable than others to tillers of the soil. But few would make a meaningful distinction about what flows beneath the better or worse parts of the city.

Do I know a better class of rat? Honestly, rats abhor me as much as do humans. They leave me to my happy self, unmolested by companions of any stripe.

My life is stress free. I come and go at will. Most times, I sit and wait. Some would say I lie in wait. Call it what you will.

One day, the city’s sewer maintenance team began dredging my peaceful home.

Forced to find quieter surroundings, I went to the home of a little kid. I crawled under his bed and settled in where I knew I’d be left in peace.

I never understood that whole monster under the bed thing. Small potatoes, if you ask me. Easy pickings. Why bother with little kids? Candy from a baby, as they say.

I’m the nemesis of bigger game - parents.

But disrupted from my routine, and lazy, this time I opted for taking it easy.

After a while, I heard his mother yelling, screeching at him, echoing down the hallway. The things she said! I held my enormous, grotesque ears.

Translating for the sake of publication, she said, “You’re the worst. Don’t you come to me with that pitiful look… You know what you did! Ruined everything. You’re the worst. Don’t gawk at me. I’m sorry we ever had you. You don’t deserve to be alive. You disgust me. No dinner for you. Get out of my sight you little worm. Don’t come out until I tell you or there’ll be hell to pay.”

Hell to pay? My cue if I ever heard one. You get the idea.

The kid slammed the door and threw himself on his bed, wailing like a wounded tomcat.

When he quieted, I came up beside him. Feeling my presence, he stiffened.

I spoke with calm and reassurance. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you, or anyone.”

He tried to see me through the gloom.

Voice trembling, he said, “What do you want?”

“I heard your mother scold you. Don’t know what you did, but it wasn’t fair. People say anything at all, without a thought. But what they say says more about them than the person they yell at.”

“It hurt.”

“Of course it did. But you must remember what I tell you. Promise you’ll remember this always.”

He nodded.

“You have to promise.”

He hesitated and then whispered, “I’ll remember. I promise.”

I said, “You are not so bad. Look at me.”

“I can’t see you.”

“Exactly. That’s how bad I am. I’m so ugly, beyond comprehension; you can’t even see me. I assure you, you’ll never be as bad as me. Even if you tried. But don’t try. Give it up. However great your failures in life, you’ll never be as bad as me.”

He stared in my direction. I could tell no one had ever spoken to him like this. He knew I was telling him the truth.

I said, “Say it. Say it like you mean it.”

“I’ll never be as bad as you.”

He saw the glimmer of my smile and shrank from me.

I chuckled. “Not bad for a beginner.”

“Now what?”

“Your mother and others may tell you anything. I can’t explain why. People do that to each other. Always have. But listen. Always, always check the source. Who is saying it? What gives them the authority to destroy you? Nothing ever gives them that power unless you grant it to them.”

I could see by his expression that I’d hit a nerve.

I said, “Don’t grant it.”

He looked stronger.

“Whatever the cause of their anger, trust they will get over it. And so will you. But you must remember that you are not bad. From my perspective, you don’t even qualify for the contest, let alone come close to winning. You don’t have it in you.”

He smiled. How many enjoy getting told they can’t compete?

I said, “Now, this is important. Whatever she thinks you did, a sincere apology might be in order. But always remember, what they say doesn’t measure up. It can’t. They’re just words. People don’t know what they’re saying.”

He nodded. It made sense to him.

I said, “Often, they repeat what someone told them.”

He nodded.

“But you have an opportunity. You can face the poison they shower on you. You don’t have to let it soak in. I’m the base line. I’m the worst. Lower than the lowest. I’ve seen the worst. And on your worst day, you could never compete.”

It was quiet except for his relaxed breathing.

“You believe me?”

He nodded.

“Now, let it sit. Tomorrow, things will look better for you both. Then you can make peace. But remember your promise. You don’t ever have to accept vicious words anyone says to you. It’s your choice. That is your domain. Don’t let the poison in.”

He lay down and slept in an instant.

Sometimes I scare myself. That was so out of keeping from my usual approach. But a monster’s got to do what he’s gotta do.

I’m sure you see it. It’s obvious. He could never cope. He’d never be one of us.