Some of My Miscellaneous Silly Thoughts

Some of My 
Miscellaneous Silly Thoughts

by Dean Burkey

Photo Source:
Preservation Hall Comedy Show, June 1, 2012
I opened for the ImprovAddicts!
(Turns out that I closed for them too, when I won The Eliminator.)
Picture Taken by David Wehman

If God wanted men to cry, 
He would’ve given us tear ducts. 

When you contract chicken pox as an adult, 
they should call it rooster pox. 
Sounds more mature. 
And for men, 
it sounds much more macho. 
“Hey Charlie, I hear you got chicken pox.” 
“No way Bob, I got rooster pox!” 

Don’t you love how our computers are so polite? 
When they stop responding, 
they take the time to tell us 
that they’re not responding. 
If they’ve got the energy and resources 
to tell us they’re not responding, 
why don’t they just use that same energy and resources 
to respond?! 

A bird in the hand 
is worth two in the bush. 
Half a bird in the hand? 
One in the bush. 
... Duhhhh!

Behind every happy man is a woman. 
Behind every happy woman is a cabana boy. 
Behind every happy cabana boy is a swimming pool. 
Ergo, swimming pools make people happy. 
Unless they’re above ground. 
‘Cause those just get on everybody’s nerves. 
Especially the sucker who cuts the grass. 

Some turkey broke my clavicle 
and made a wish. 

An Eskimo witch 
is sure to give you a cold spell. 

I wear a tomato-colored coat for a reason. 

If you don’t want to play chess anymore, 
I’ll just take the pawn 
back to the ring shop. 

Everyone wants to be God. 
Until you realize the hours. 

Blessings & Joy,

Dean

Photo Source: Same as before.
Another Picture Taken by David Wehman

Here are the ImprovAddicts  
before we got team shirts!

Uploaded on Oct 5, 2010 by
ImprovAddicts

 
 

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Monster Laughs: The Swinging Tale of the Blue Moon Monkey Man

Next:
Don’t miss this next intrepid tale,
if you’re a true blue fan.
Because the Mystery Hunter battles
the Blue Moon Monkey Man!

Monster Laughs: 

The Swinging Tale
of the
Blue Moon Monkey Man

Three Left Side Photos by Daniel Terry
Right Photo by Dean Burkey

To celebrate Halloween!

(Really just an excuse to promote my book Monster Laughs.)

Here are a few excerpts from chapter 7,
a.k.a. ...

FILE #147:
THE SWINGING TALE
OF THE
BLUE MOON MONKEY MAN

The Mystery Hunter encounters a new menace.
Before he gets himself killed over a blue banana,
the Hunter better solve this case and split!

...

The flight went well; and the capsule crashed safely on the moon. After regaining consciousness, Monkey performed his assigned duties and even illustrated his findings report. The mission proceeded as planned; that is, until the journey home. Dunt, dunt, duhh!

After leaving the moon’s surface, the ship passed through a radiation storm, one of those inexplicable occurrences in nature, such as the aurora borealis, the Bermuda Triangle, and Mister Bing’s third nipple. Bombarded by the cosmic rays, Monkey saw through his suit to his skeleton and decided one banana wasn’t worth the trouble. He aborted the mission as best he could at that point, by refusing to pick up a gallon of milk.

The irradiated rocket crashed into the Seattle apartment of Andrew Pike Edmondson. Clearly, the space team miscalculated the landing site. The capsule was supposed to crash into the Dallas apartment of Arthur Paul Edmunds.

Before dying, the glowing, fluorescent blue Monkey leapt from the capsule and bit Andrew on the neck; and Andy P. Edmondson felt a strange sensation overwhelm him. His body chemistry altered, causing him to transform into a human-sized monkey with blue fur, a crew-cut, and a tail. This new creature, who would later become known as the Blue Moon Monkey Man, felt an urgent urge to eat a banana split, especially since he still had a chance to win the Banana Split Bonus Game.

...

Being a sore loser, the Azure Ape trashed the ice cream parlor with his tail-swinging antics. While most people found that part amusing, the poo-flinging upset everyone. Especially the banker’s wife who caught a fling full force in her face and whose white cashmere jacket became covered in steaming blue monkey dung.

The authorities were summoned, including animal control and extraterrestrial relations, but the Blue-Tailed Being fervently escaped up the fire escape and bounded across the rooftops. No one knew a clue about this guy. So they called me. Blue? Why did he have to be blue?

This is the city: Seattle. “The Emerald City”, a.k.a. “Rainy City”, a.k.a. “Gateway to Alaska”, a.k.a. “Jet City”. The birthplace of grunge music, but only because of a long strike by sanitation workers. Had the garbage trucks kept running, critics might’ve named the new song style Puddle Music.

...

Kafka couldn’t tell me much. Plus, the measly miser never offered me free samples of Rocky Road or Polar Bear Crunch. So I left.

Spent the night figuring how long I should take to solve this case. Sometimes, I save the day right away to build a reputation for expediency. But if I always finish fast, I belittle my field; and make my work seem simple. Besides, the longer I take, the more I make. I should be paid by the case, but most places operate with a time-spent mentality. I once saved the lives on an entire continent by quickly cutting a red wire. (Or was it the blue wire?) Okay. The continent was Antarctica; and there were only three of us. But still, I saved our lives. Since I took only two seconds to do so, the others didn’t think my efforts deserved much compensation. Next time, I’ll let the timer drop closer to zero and negotiate a much better deal. (File #113: “The Antarctica Atomic Time Bomb and Rabid Penguin Ordeal”.)

In the morning, I read the Seattle Times. A fundamental rule in solving paranormal enigmas says: Two supernatural events occurring in the same evening might be more than a coinky-dinky. (The actual rule says “more than a coincidence”, but I like to sound hipper than the psychobabble found in most paranormal investigation handbooks.) A rocket “manned” by a monkey crashed into a man’s apartment; and a block away, a man-sized blue monkey appeared, peeling yellow bananas and flinging poo. Might be more than a coinky-dinky indeed.

...

The accounts from both encounters told of Blue Fur’s fondness for fire escapes. His second time out, he unpeeled another bunch of bananas. So my plan should come to fruition and produce my hoped-for harvest.

To test a hunch, I staked out the fire escape alongside the More-Or-Less Motel. But first, I bought a postcard from the gift shop. To avoid the unpleasantries of another poo-flinging incident, I wore a plastic raincoat over my trusty trench coat. Also figured an umbrella wouldn’t hurt either. Sure hurts if an angry old woman beats you with it. That’s what you get for taking the last bran muffin. But I meant my bringing an umbrella along shouldn’t hurt.

Even at night, the city in summer felt too hot to wear a raincoat over a trench coat. Within half an hour, I felt like I was drowning inside my clothes! But I needed my trusty trench coat. You never hear Batman complaining, “Aw Alfred, Gotham City’s too hot tonight, I’ll just leave my utility belt here in the Bat Cave.”

The squawking of battling birds serenaded me to sleep. But soon, I awakened to “Oo-oo, ah-ah!” when the Chunky Monkey assaulted the blue bananas.

...

“Hey! You can talk.”

“And you can die!” The colorful creature grabbed me by the throat with his feet and dangled me above the alley.

I searched, hoping, wishing, praying I’d find a thorn in his paw that I could remove, so we’d become the best of friends; and I’d survive another night’s work. Maybe my father’s advice adds up. A career in accounting figures far less dangerous. The only thing that could kill me would be boredom. Or an exploding calculator. Nope! No thorn to be found! Looked like my Facebook status was about to change to: Deceased. My last Tweet would be: Argh!

...

...Lots more happens! Including: The account of a spaceflight gone awry. He hires an assistant who keeps having transport trouble. The Mystery Hunter suffers through another awkward encounter. The reason our hero names this villain The Blue Moon Monkey Man. The Hunter literally hangs on for dear life. Will the Cause of Death for the Hunter be listed as sweaty palms? Personally, I hope he survives, because his next adventure is my favorite!

... To read more of Monster Laughs, read the sample from the Kindle edition here.

... To read the rest of this chapter, buy the Kindle edition here for only ninety-nine cents!

... If you don’t have a Kindle reader, get a Free Kindle Reading App here.

... Buy the print edition here for only $9.95, plus shipping, unless you qualify for free shipping.

... Zany, quirky, funny, fun. For teens and adults.

Blessings & Joy,

Dean

See also: Monster Laughs Disclaimer ..., "Monster Laughs" Table of Contents, "Monster Laughs!" - Back Cover Copy, Monster Laughs Songliography, Monster Laughs: Frankenstein's Monster Bolts Loose!, Monster Laughs: Doctor Jekyll & Ms. Hyde, Monster Laughs: Unraveling the Mystery of the Mummy, and Monster Laughs: Skinny Dipping with the Creature from the Blue Lagoon.

Shop Amazon - 2012 Holiday Toy List

Monster Laughs: Skinny Dipping with the Creature from the Blue Lagoon

Monster Laughs: 

Skinny Dipping
with the Creature
from the Blue Lagoon

Three Left Side Photos by Daniel Terry
Right Photo by Dean Burkey

To celebrate Halloween!

(Really just an excuse to promote my book Monster Laughs.)

Here are a few excerpts from chapter 6,
a.k.a. ...

FILE #146:
SKINNY DIPPING
WITH THE CREATURE
FROM THE BLUE LAGOON

Cannibals, pirates, and sharks, oh my!
Also, lost treasure, a whale, a gorilla,
a navy seal, and a couple grabby blue crabs.
And let’s not forget the web-footed horror
of the amphibious Creature!
Does the Creature want to kill the Hunter?
Or are his desires a fate worse than death?
What else would you expect
during mating season at the Blue Lagoon?

Please Note: The Bracketed Numbers refer to the
Monster Laughs Songliography.

The Creature from the Blue Lagoon resembled his cousin, the creature from another lagoon, but varied in appearance only as much as needed to avoid a copyright infringement suit. And he was blue. He resented his cousin’s film success. Although Hollywood made movies about the Blue Lagoon, none included the Creature. Poor Fish Face, the breaks never came his way. Until he crossed my path; and I broke one of his fins.

This is the city: Blue Lagoon, Thanksgiving Island. Blue Pearl of the South Pacific. Isle of Paradise. {1} Ah, but every Paradise houses a troublesome reptilian intruder. Granted, Gill-Boy’s an amphibian, not a reptile, but I took poetic license. But how dare I make such a claim when none of that rhymed? Hmm. Seldom shown on maps, Thanksgiving Island is a tiny isle located in the South Pacific between Easter Island and Christmas Island. But much closer to Christmas Island. No one would know of its existence if not for seven stranded castaways whose plans for a three-hour tour lasted three seasons, not counting sequels and cartoon spin-offs.

...

The Crabby Creature Feature served as a legend around Thanksgiving Island for decades, but recently became such a nuisance, the council called me to take care of him, because they voted him off the island. The Fishy Fiend scared a few high schoolers sailing late at night, tore some tuna fishermen’s nets, and tried to impregnate a dyed-blue poodle who wandered too close to the water.

I searched the local files to figure out what happened to summon him forth. Tourism for Thanksgiving Island reached an all-time low. (Perhaps due to not being on major maps.) A gold doubloon purportedly part of Bluebeard’s treasure washed ashore. And this was mating season.

Argh! Alone at the Blue Lagoon during mating season! What could be worse? Imploding into a kajillion pieces. Being eaten by sharks. Or rabid bunnies. Being violated by amorous squirrels with buck teeth. Okay, some things are worse, but still. Must my being heroic mean I must wallow alone? Superman has Lois Lane. Spider-Man, Mary Jane. Despite my despair and loneliness, I know my true love will come to me soon.

Meanwhile, I had a case to solve. Experience told me that the alleged Devonian Monster could be a hoax bandied about to beef up tourism. Or scare off treasure hunters. But then again, Bluebeard’s gold could be another tall tale to lure visitors to Thanksgiving Island. A double whammy. Monster hunters and treasure seekers would feel drawn to spend their vacation dollars here. And the islanders would indeed give thanks.

No one sober had seen Puddle Puss, so I must assume he’s a fabrication to attract people to the island and/or keep them away. Thought I saw a blue hand, but with water in my eyes, late at night, while shivering. Was that Swimming Swoosher, Blue Gills? Maybe a killer whale got separated from his pod, ‘cause I heard his longing call close to shore.

My next move seemed obvious: Eat waffles! Then meet Baba-Luau, so we can investigate supposed sightings of Blue Boy. Prove he’s a myth. And find the treasure!

...

I feigned laughter and suggested we separate to cover more ground. After hiking half a mile away from my trigger-happy assistant, I smelled day-old fish and found weird, wet, webbed footprints leading from the shore into the woods. Weird, wet, webbed feet? Must be a diver searching for Bluebeard’s treasure. Would be too easy if I walked right into. Gulp! The Walking Wet Nightmare! We fared to find a Finned Fiend; and what a fine Finned Fiend I found. Say that ten times fast.

The Wet Head jumped from the bushes.

...

The Seafood Entrée with a Bad Attitude stood a foot and half taller than me. Covered with blue, hard, pointy scales with odd blue fins sticking out here and there. The Blue Lagoonatic’s got lifeless eyes. Like a doll’s eyes. Like Kay when she changes personalities. Or Uncle Kenny before his morning cup of coffee. Or his daily dose of lithium.

I smiled, ready to unload seven, count-‘em, seven, rounds into his chest. I reached into my trusty trench coat for my marble-handled, custom-made, sure-shot, seven, count-‘em, seven-shooter. I reached again. And again! Old habits linger on life support. Too bad Band-Aid Boy, I mean, Gauze Girl, turned my marble-handled, custom-made, sure-shot, seven, count-‘em, seven-shooter with the bent end into Furina Crocodile Chow in the Nile River. Oh-oh. Although not wanting to die, I felt relieved Captain Gills only wanted to kill me.

But just when I thought it was safe to be murdered by a homicidal maniac, ...

...

One good thing about steel-heel shoes with soft inner soles? They kick hard. So I mule kicked over and over. I broke free and one of his fins. Gill Guy climbed the boulder and emitted a loud, mournful cry. Like the screeching of an alley cat in heat. Or a used-car salesperson when you park on his pinkie toe. (Don’t ask me how I know.) With my clothes tattered around my ankles, I tripped and fell. Scampering to my feet, I stumbled out of the woods. But the Lagoony Loony caught me and flung me into the cove like a quarterback throwing a touchdown pass.

One bad thing about steel-heel shoes with soft inner soles? They make you sink. Fast! The salt water stung the lacerations on my back where the Sea Slob’s claws shredded my trusty trench coat, royal blue shirt, khaki pants, and Spider-Man Underoos. I held my nose to stabilize my air pressure. Although I couldn’t see clearly, I made out the form of a mako shark hoping to make o’ meal out o’ me.

To swim upward, I kicked off my sure-footed, steel-heel shoes with soft inner soles. Silly me always wanting to breathe. Like a distant, shimmering cloud, the surface hovered above me.

The man-eater circled once and rushed at me with its jaws agape, so I promptly covered my privates with my left hand. Didn’t want more stitches there! As the sea predator zoomed at me, I prepared to punch his eyes and snout with my right fist. Before the mako could munch on me, CBL dove in and punched him for me! Although flattered Happy Gills saved my life, I hoped he knew he still wasn’t getting any action. Not from me.

With the two finned foes fighting, I swam toward the surface owing to my being deathly allergic to a lack of oxygen. Underwater for over a minute. My lungs felt like they would burst. I couldn’t judge the distance. Was I thirty feet away? Twenty? Ten? My hands broke the surface. But before my head could, a blow to the gut knocked the remaining wind out of me. Bye-bye consciousness.

...

Monster Laughs Songliography

(A List of Songs Mentioned, Referenced, Quoted, Misquoted,

Paraphrased, Parodied, and/or Spoofed by The Mystery Hunter)

Song Title(s)

- Songwriter(s).

1 “Isle of Paradise”
- Lyrics by David O. Joseph,
Felix Gauder, & Susan Rafael
& Music by Felix Gauder & Susan Rafael.

2 “Blue Christmas”
- Billy Hayes & Jay W. Johnson

3 “Blue Suede Shoes”
- Carl Perkins

4 “Bluer than Blue”
- Randy Goodrum

5 “Blue Moon”
- Richard Rodgers & Lorenz Hart.

... This stitch-busting adventure is the most frightening chapter so far! And laughs abound too. Lots more happens! Including: The Mystery Hunter’s skinny dipping in cold water ends horribly for him. Blue is no longer his favorite color! Two supporting characters from the previous adventure vacation at the Blue Lagoon looking for treasure. Cannibals versus pirates. Although a homicidal amphibious monster, the Creature does his best to woo the Hunter. Doctor Jekyll’s taunts haunt our hero. And the Hunter does his best to escape! But is his best good enough?

... To read more of Monster Laughs, read the sample from the Kindle edition here.

... To read the rest of this chapter, buy the Kindle edition here for only ninety-nine cents!

... If you don’t have a Kindle reader, get a Free Kindle Reading App here.

... Buy the print edition here for only $9.95, plus shipping, unless you qualify for free shipping.

... Zany, quirky, funny, fun. For teens and adults.

Blessings & Joy,

Dean

See also: Monster Laughs Disclaimer ..., "Monster Laughs" Table of Contents, "Monster Laughs!" - Back Cover Copy, Monster Laughs Songliography, Monster Laughs: Frankenstein's Monster Bolts Loose!, Monster Laughs: Doctor Jekyll & Ms. Hyde, and Monster Laughs: Unraveling the Mystery of the Mummy.

Monster Laughs: Unraveling the Mystery of the Mummy

Next:

Although taking on the tag team of terror
proved truly traumatic for the Mystery Hunter,
he messes with many a menace
as meeting the Mummy makes him
face his gravest fears so far!

Monster Laughs: 
Unraveling the Mystery of the Mummy

Three Left Side Photos by Daniel Terry
Right Photo by Dean Burkey

To celebrate Halloween!

(Really just an excuse to promote my book Monster Laughs.)

Here are a few excerpts from chapter 5,
a.k.a. ...

FILE #145:
UNRAVELING THE MYSTERY
OF THE MUMMY

The Mystery Hunter faces more horrors
than he’s ever imagined.
Is the Mummy out for revenge?
Or just running a pyramid scheme?

Please Note: The Bracketed Number refers to the
Monster Laughs Songliography.

Professor Horace Howard Hornsby, some poor sap of an archaeologist, disturbed Im-In-Step’s tomb, which made the Mummy moan and groan and attack everyone on the excavation team. That’s so him. But what’s Band-Aid Boy’s problem? You’d think he’d be bored silly after lying around, doing nothing for over three thousand years. On the plus side, stalking and destroying an archaeological team is aerobic. So at least he’s stretching his legs a bit. And airing out his nasty, stale grave cloths. The Mummy’s Curse becomes a lot less threatening after he gets a fresh change of bandages. After a few millennia, he develops quite a pungent odor. I’d never say that to his face. He’d wail and moan all night in that annoying way that he does.

This is the city: Cairo. Although translated “The Vanquisher” or “The Triumphant”, to many tourists, Cairo means “Crowded”. The capitol city of Egypt. The most populous metropolitan area in Africa; and the 16th in the world. But they try harder. A lot harder. But with an odoriferous Mad Mummy on the loose, this place sphinx.

Professor Triple H and his World Wonder’s Excavation (WWE) team fled Doozer’s Pyramid in Saccharin and came to Cairo, only to be followed by the vengeful Dune Buffoon who hid inside a laundry truck. Ho-Ho-Ho waited until the Hieroglyphic Horror murdered two members of his team before he called me. (He got to the bargaining stage a corpse quicker than the folks who called me in File #141: “Count Dracula Sinks His Teeth into the Big Apple”.) I came for the adventure, the call to duty, and the paranormal paycheck, but as soon as I landed, I looked for love. Sick of supermodels and still ambiguous about schizophrenic amazons, I decided to pursue a not entirely unappealing, petite and getting smaller by the day, beggar lady who lived in the alley two blocks from my motel. The Sands Motel in Cairo. Not a building; a huge pile of sand. A bit pricy at $249 a night. But conveniently located in the desert. At high noon, the mirages glistened gloriously.

Ah, Lucretia. Lucretia had a way of being Lucretia. Unlike other sand-covered lepers; who weren’t Lucretia. How ironic her name means Gain, since she loses more of herself every day and washes her laundry with Tide. Although she suffered in the latter stages of leprosy, the parts of her that still lingered looked lovely in lacy lingerie. Or maybe I felt lonely. Big surprise; huh? A Mystery Hunter feeling lonely. The Hunter prowls alone. I used to rationalize such despair as solitude. Woo-hoo! Solitude! But not anymore. Boo-hoo! Solitude.

Maybe Serena was right. Maybe I am “a freaky little fool in an over-sized coat full of goofy gadgets who can’t solve the mystery of himself, much less anything else”. Should I take such cruel words spoken in anger to heart? But why was she mad? Where did I go wrong with her? My monstrous charisma and hunter’s mystique always made her feel so secure. Whenever she saw me, she shouted, “Security! Security!!”

...

Since my nerdy assistant conned his way into Camille’s heart, I snapped into action and posted pictures of Tim “Conway” Twitty in places Pharaoh Scare-Oh visited. A caption emblazoned atop the photos read: “Here’s the One Who Excavated Im-In-Step’s Crypt. Yes Sir, If I Were a Vengeful Mummy, This Is the Guy I’d Attack!” Woo my woman, would he? Never again! Not only would I get my revenge and make Camille available, I’d acquire free labor using the Tim-ster as involuntary bait.

...

My plan backfired when T. Nelson Twitty got mobbed by gorgeous gals who thought he was “The One” and wanted to get him, get him. Or did that cryptic relic really work?

“Hey! You’re right ex-Boss!” twittered Mister Twit. “This is a lucky charm!”

“You crazy kid! Whatcha gonna do when the Carpolator catches you?”

Timmy gulped. Again with the gulping. “Here.” He handed the pickle-shaped doodad back to me. “You need this more than I do.”

“Thanks?” I rubbed the relic all over my body, with a dab or two behind each ear, in the hopes of releasing aphrodisiacal pheromones. “Okay, ladies, here I am!”

Throughout the room resounded a rousing, high-pitched, “So?!”

Asked a couple cuties on the cusp of the cute crowd crowding Conway, “I have the lucky charm; why are you still after him?”

“Because he’s the one who excavated Im-In-Step’s crypt!” said the one.

“Being vengeful mommies, he’s the guy we should attack,” said the other.

Pulled a picture out of my pocket and reread the caption: “Here’s the One Who Excavated Im-In-Step’s Crypt. Yes Sir, If I Were a Vengeful Mommy, This Is the Guy I’d Attack!” Mommy?! The spiteful Spell Checker checks whether you spelled each word correctly, not whether you used the correct ward. See what I mean?

...

Ah! The Mummy! He killed three team members. Add in the Marcie mishap; and that’s four down with three to go. Make that four, since I somehow moved to the top of his hit list.

“Hello, Mummy! Sorry I never call.” I acted cool to avoid a massive panic and sang, “M is for the Many Men you’ve Murdered. U is for the Underarm deodorant you should use.” {1} My act didn’t even fool me. My life flashed before my eyes. I wept. Like a baby. Minus the messy diapers.

Why must the Hunter prowl alone? Who would be crazy enough to love me? Crazy enough? Kay! I yanked out my cell and called The Asylum to leave a message for her on her rubber room voicemail: “Love you, bye!”

Turned to face my demise at the wretched hands of the Rampaging Raggedy Man. I wiped away my tears and pled, “Go ahead. I’m not afraid.”

...

Monster Laughs Songliography

(A List of Songs Mentioned, Referenced, Quoted, Misquoted,

Paraphrased, Parodied, and/or Spoofed by The Mystery Hunter)

Song Title(s)

- Songwriter(s).

1 “M-O-T-H-E-R
(A Word That Means The World To Me)”
- Lyrics by Howard Johnson
& Music by Theodore F. Morse.

... Lots more happens! Including: The Mystery Hunter involuntarily dirty-dances with the Mummy. Our hero awakens alone in the midst of the dessert as the sun rises. His lucky charm isn’t what he thinks it is; and yet it still makes an Osiris nun smile. The Mummy problem multiplies like crazy. The Mystery Hunter gets trapped inside a sealed crypt! He faces his fiercest fears so far! Will the Hunter who prowls alone die alone?

... To read more of Monster Laughs, read the sample from the Kindle edition here.

... To read the rest of this chapter, buy the Kindle edition here for only ninety-nine cents!

... If you don’t have a Kindle reader, get a Free Kindle Reading App here.

... Buy the print edition here for only $9.95, plus shipping, unless you qualify for free shipping.

... Zany, quirky, funny, fun. For teens and adults.

Blessings & Joy,

Dean

See also: Monster Laughs Disclaimer ..., "Monster Laughs" Table of Contents, "Monster Laughs!" - Back Cover Copy, Monster Laughs Songliography, Monster Laughs: Frankenstein's Monster Bolts Loose!, and Monster Laughs: Doctor Jekyll & Ms. Hyde.

Monster Laughs: Doctor Jekyll & Ms. Hyde

Next:

A naughty nip-and-tucker

makes the Mystery Hunter

want to hide!

Monster Laughs: 
Doctor Jekyll & Ms. Hyde

Three Left Side Photos by Daniel Terry
Right Photo by Dean Burkey

To celebrate Halloween!

(Really just an excuse to promote my book Monster Laughs.)

Here are a few excerpts from chapter 4,
a.k.a. ...

FILE #144:
DOCTOR JEKYLL
& MS. HYDE

Double the pleasure; double the danger!
And with the Hunter involved,
double the laughs and mishaps!!
And double the indignities and insecurities!!!

Please Note: Bracketed Numbers refer to the
Monster Laughs Songliography.

Not knowing how to break up with a gargantuan gal chock full of personalities, I left Crazy Kay at The Asylum and skedaddled to London, England. I flew in from Miami Beach on a British Overseas Airways Corporation {1} plane out of M.I.A. Gate F-23. Never fell asleep last night. Kept my head buried in a barf bag between my trembling knees. I endured a dreadful flight.{2} I sat back in the back and hurt my back. The boys in front don’t know how lucky they are. Boy! My back’s in the U-S-S-R {3} (Universal-Strap-Suspension-Restraint).

This is the city: London. Formerly Plowonidonjon. Later Londinium. The Square Mile. The Great Wen. A River Too Wide to Ford. Home of the Bridge That’s Falling Down, Falling Down.{4} England Swings Like a Pendulum Do.{5} Across the Atlantic Sea. Land of a Thousand Stances. Brave and Grand. Jolly Good Show. What a shame the citizens of such a significant city don’t drive on the right side of the road. As an American, Great Britain’s a great place to revolt against, but I wouldn’t want to live there.

“Popped over the pond” as the Brits say. Although we in America say we speak English, the way we speak differs from the way the English speak. Plus, they have such unique customs. When you part ways, they tell you what they ate for breakfast, but in the singular form. Odder still, they all eat the same cereal: Cheerios! When we leave each other, they bid me “Cheerio!” I smile, play along, and say, “Rice Krispie!” “Frosted Flake!” Sometimes, “Scrambled egg and a stack of pancake!” Although they initiated this crazy custom, they gawk at me as if I’d gone batty, as they say. (Which almost happened in File #141: “Count Dracula Sinks His Teeth into the Big Apple”. God bless those seven angry Chihuahuas!)

...

“If you say so. Jolly good. Smashing. And all that rot.”

“Are you making fun of me?” The glaring Commissioner folded his arms.

“Not you, sir. Just your country and all you hold dear.”

“Right! Very well then!” Snatching the crumpet from me, he threw it away. “Why are you Yanks always so revolting?”

“Look, Commish. Hear me out. I hunt mysteries, catch monsters, do some acting on the side. Bowl when I can. Love pie. And waffles. But I’m not used to being around regular folks, so I’m sorry I offended you. Although my social skills lack a certain savoir-faire, I’m still your best shot at catching whatever spooky kook’s running around London Town. So tell me what you know; and I’ll listen while I savor local cuisine, without you yanking it out of the Yank’s hands. Okay?”

...

“Be careful.”

“I always am.” I scribbled a smiley face on his notepad.

“Have you gone daft? What’s all this then?”

“A Yankee doodle.” {9}

“Dandy.” {10} The Commissioner gritted his teeth.

While leaving his office, I muttered under my breath, “The right side of the road is the right side of the road.”

A flung crumpet conked my noggin.

After several shampooings failed to wash away my hair’s pungent butter scent, I noticed my shampoo smelled like butter. Go figure.

...

I lumbered to the Licensed Loony’s lab to capture him and take him to the cops. I could’ve called for back up. Should have. But I like apprehending the culprit and bringing him in on my own. A Hunter prowls alone kind of thing. Reinforces the notion of Yankee ingenuity for me to best a bunch of boobies. I mean, bobbies. While they drank tea and chomped chips, I solved the case. I shouldn’t gloat, but I feel such a rush when I solve “unsolvable” cases. Plus, after almost losing my self-esteem to Ms. Eerie’s blade, I needed the victory of capturing the Prescriptionator by myself to boost my male ego. Too bad, pride and summer come before the Fall.

I barged into Joke-Ill’s lab and announced, “What’s up Doc? You’ll make lots of friends in prison when those lonely cons see you change into Ms. Heartbreaker. On the plus side, you’ll never sleep alone.”

“Are you trying to scare me Mudpie Hunter?”

“Mystery Hunter. Mys-ter-y.”

The Mad Grabber madly grabbed a double dose of his eerie serum and brandished a hypodermic needle at me. “I’ll show you what horror means!”

“No need to. I have a dictionary.” With my kitty-like reflexes, I dodged his first swing. “Or I can Google it online.” I sidestepped his second strike too. “Or Wiki will give me -- Ow!” But not the third. Pain shot through my arm. I wobbled. “Was that needle clean?”

“The needle’s clean; the serum’s not.” The Injection-Meister cackled maddeningly. Not like a villain in a B-movie. He just chortled an annoying laugh that made me mad. “My serum overrides your inner inhibitions, lets you manifest your subconscious desires, reveals who you are underneath!”

The room spun. Clockwise, I think. I couldn’t be sure. I wear a digital. As a kaleidoscope of colors swirled around my mind, I pictured myself in a raft on a river. With tangelo trees.{12} Or were those tangerines? Marvelous marmalade dripped from the sky.{13} Fat lot of good that did me, since I didn’t have toast or a butter knife. Felt like I floated to the clouds with diamonds. Gulp! Was my name Lucy? {14} I blacked out. A second? Three days? A decade? I couldn’t keep track of time. Not only was my watch digital; it needed a new battery.

...

Monster Laughs Songliography

(A List of Songs Mentioned, Referenced, Quoted, Misquoted,

Paraphrased, Parodied, and/or Spoofed by The Mystery Hunter)

Song Title(s)

- Songwriter(s).

1, 2, 3 “Back in the U.S.S.R.”

- John Lennon & Paul McCartney.

4 “London Bridge Is Falling Down”

- Traditional, Author Unknown.

5 “England Swings Like a Pendulum Do”

- Roger Miller.

9, 10 “Yankee Doodle” 

- Dr. Richard Schuckburg.

12, 13, 14 “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”

- John Lennon & Paul McCartney.

...

Please Note: 

A lot more action takes place, but it might be construed as PG-13, 

since Ms. Hyde isn’t a serial killer, but something far more sinister ... 

a thriller killer, a dream-hacker, gasp!, a, ahem, neuterer! 

The scariest chapter so far! 

Will the Mystery Hunter lose all that he holds dear?! 

... To read more of Monster Laughs, read the sample from the Kindle edition here.

... To read the rest of this chapter, buy the Kindle edition here for only ninety-nine cents!

... If you don’t have a Kindle reader, get a Free Kindle Reading App here.

... Buy the print edition here for only $9.95, plus shipping, unless you qualify for free shipping.

... Zany, quirky, funny, fun. For teens and adults.

Blessings & Joy,

Dean

See also: Monster Laughs Disclaimer ..., "Monster Laughs" Table of Contents, "Monster Laughs!" - Back Cover Copy, Monster Laughs Songliography, and Monster Laughs: Frankenstein's Monster Bolts Loose!

Monster Laughs: Frankenstein's Monster Bolts Loose!

Monster Laughs: 
Frankenstein's Monster Bolts Loose!

Three Left Side Photos by Daniel Terry
Right Photo by Dean Burkey

To celebrate Halloween!

(Really just an excuse to promote my book Monster Laughs.)

Here are a few excerpts from chapter 3,
a.k.a. ...

FILE #143:

FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER

BOLTS LOOSE

Big and green, mighty and mean,

the most menacing monster 

the Hunter’s ever seen.

(So far.)

A Marauding Monster in Miami! Early descriptions of the creature sounded like Frankenstein’s Monster, but last I heard, he sank in icy Arctic waters decades ago. After NASA reported an eerie comet crashed into the polar ice caps, the tabloids posted several headlines about a large, mindless, lumbering hulk with bolts in his neck hitchhiking south.

Most folks call Frankenstein’s Monster: Frankenstein. But that’s the last name of the doctor who stitched together and reanimated the creature in his lab. While the Big Fella himself bore the name Bob. Although he would also answer to Robert, Robby, Bobby, Skip, Skippy, Hey Big Scary Monster, and Eeeeeeyaaaaaahhhhh! Since he’s one of the sweetest guys you’d ever meet, the Big Lug hated being called a monster. And yet, he drove a Monster Truck. Go figure.

Standing seven feet tall, the King of Stitches can be so intimidating, you can sweat through a five-day deodorant pad in five minutes. Or five seconds, if he breathes on you. With his Monster Breath. Green-faced, with bolts and scars. Short, frizzy, black hair. Gray eyes. And clumsy. What a klutz! Old Flat Top never meant to hurt anybody. But when he hugged some folks, he accidentally yanked off their skulls. And ever since, the unforgiving, grudge-and-torch-bearing villagers have tried to destroy him. And that hurts. He’s so sensitive, he exudes more meaning with one mindless moan than Webster does with his entire dictionary.

Although called to investigate the comet crash, I busied myself with my supermodel assistant Penelope Pratts poking my eyes and kneeing my tenderloins during my search for a certain furry felon. With that case closed, I picked up the trail of Bolt Boy after he bounded into Miami.

This is the city: Miami. The name means “That ami belongs to me!” or “I own this ami.” Maybe, my love. Or downstream person. The Magic City. Little Cuba. The Gateway to the Americas. America’s Cleanest City. Cruise Capital of the World. A metropolitan area known for heat, dolphins, and vice. If you’re frozen, this is the place to thaw.

...


Seeing his evil grin, I thawed out and cocked my right fist, ready to punch him back to the North Pole. But I refroze when I realized his strong, massive hands could easily pop my head as if it were something that pops easily. How about Jiffy Pop Popcorn? Okay. His strong, massive hands could easily pop my head as if it were Jiffy Pop Popcorn. Or maybe a water balloon. His strong, massive hands could easily pop my head as if it were a water balloon. Or create your own. His strong, massive hands could easily pop my head as if it were {INSERT YOUR OWN IDEA HERE}. With my life about to end, I didn’t have time to nitpick about minuscule metaphorical musings. Okay. What about a melon? His strong, massive hands could easily pop my head as if it were a melon. A rotten melon on a hot summer’s day!

Never a radioactive spider around when you need one. When the hands of death reached within an inch of my easily-poppable, Jiffy-Pop-Popcornesque, water-balloonish, {RE-INSERT YOUR OWN IDEA HERE}-like, rotten-melon-on-a-hot-summer’s-day-style head, Kay called out, “No!”

Monster Breath turned to look at her, so I ducked with deftness and courage. (I won the bronze medal in the past three Duck Olympics. I keep losing to Donald and Daffy.) Although frozen with fear, I thawed after inhaling Horror-Head’s Hideous Halitosis.

...

Before the Quilted Zombie could clamber to Kay, I whipped out my Poppy’s Pocket Torch and lit it with the handy-dandy Insta-Lite accessory. I fanned the flames into Flathead’s face and fumed, “‘How about a little fire, Scarecrow?’”

The Monster Mash snarled and staggered back.

Felt glad that my addiction to late night infomercials proved useful after all. And that I could deduct some of them as legitimate business expenses.

Kay waddled to me, but I chased after my fleeing foe.

“How ironic they dub you ‘The Modern Prometheus’, when you’re afraid of fire. And not all that modern either. That suit went out of style centuries ago.” I cackled, wielding power over the one who, seconds ago, made me cower. And destroyed my pie.

“Don’t hurt him!” Kay knocked the Torch out of my hand and sent it sailing down a nearby sewage drain. That’s four easy payments of $29.95 plus shipping and handling I’ll never see again. Good thing they made the fifth payment for me.

I quit cackling and recommenced cowering. As the Green Groaner hulked back to me with his arms outstretched, I babbled a like a maniac, as, some might say, is my stock in trade. “No hard feelings. Right, Big Guy? It’s so dark, I thought you could use a little light. And since you were frozen, some heat too. Sound good? And, of course, I was kidding with my comment about ‘The Modern Prometheus’. We cool?”

I gulped. Among other things. Moaning and groaning mindlessly, the Lumbering Lunkhead lifted me off the street with his huge hands. Images of my easily-poppable head flooded back into my brain. My easily-poppable, Jiffy-Pop-Popcornesque, water-balloonish, {RE-RE-INSERT YOUR OWN IDEA HERE}-like, rotten-melon-on-a-hot-summer’s-day-style brain.

... To read more of Monster Laughs, read the sample from the Kindle edition here.

... To read the rest of this chapter, buy the Kindle edition here for only ninety-nine cents!

... If you don’t have a Kindle reader, get a Free Kindle Reading App here.

... Buy the print edition here for only $9.95, plus shipping, unless you qualify for free shipping.

Blessings & Joy,

Dean

See also: "Monster Laughs" Table of Contents and "Monster Laughs!" - Back Cover Copy.