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Each morning before getting up the Monster would lay within its soft, silken sheets, luxuriating in the dread of the day that was to come. The primary problem of the Monster was that it would be forced to look at itself. The Monster knew itself to be a green, bearded creature with terribly twisted teeth. It also knew that its features were not at all in the right places in relation to the flat, round blob that comprised its face. The teeth were what bothered the Monster the most: these mangled bits of bone radiated out from its gums like roots that are too long and twisted together.
The Monster had attempted to combat the issue posed by its unattractiveness by hiding the mirrors in its living space. Unfortunately this had brought no solace. At some point in the day the Monster would inevitably move the velvet drape slightly, exposing the reflective material of the forbidden mirror upon itself. During these furtive glances into the reflective shrapnel, the Monster would provoke additional sadness by bearing its teeth up till its gums and inspecting the origin of each and every one of its baneful protrusions.
Although the Monster could not admit this to itself or to any other lifeform, it secretly enjoyed the pain of peeking. This stinging sensation brought about by looking at itself was something to revel in when its mind was otherwise bored. For no reason technically, except for habit. Habits are difficult to break.
“I could live such a happy life if only I’d been blessed by the gift of a normal appearance,” thought the Monster.
It was true that the Monster enjoyed revelling unnecessarily in self-deprecating feelings. These thoughts were so all consuming that the Monster could focus on no other activities that would have drawn its attention from its own painful repulsiveness, activities that could have allowed it to immerse itself in a fantasy world in which appearances are irrelevant.
Luckily, the Monster had inherited quite a sizable sum some years back and could get on very well without making any sort of effort in the realm of holding a job. As a result, the Monster rarely stepped out of the house other than for necessary errands. These excursions occurred once a week on Wednesdays and lasted for exactly one hour each. The goal of the Monster was to ensure that its life would be held in place by some sort of temporal constancy; the creature reasoned that ugliness is no excuse for being sloppy and imprecise.
During these rare immersions into the outside world, the Monster could sense the painful gaze of onlookers crawling on its skin. This feeling was so utterly terrible that it could not make eye contact with any other normal souls due to a horrible, all-encompassing fear. The Monster was certain that it had on many occasions witnessed others secretly laughing, mocking and pointing at it. All in all, the Monster considered itself lucky to never have been publicly ridiculed.
It was as if there was an invisible weight on the shoulders of the poor being that was never meant to be lifted.
One Wednesday in December, the life of the Monster changed forever. The day began quite normally. First came the hours allocated to wallowing in despair. The next stage consisted of taking care of personal hygiene (shower and toothbrushing time). As always, this phase of minor self improvement cursed the Monster with some time to think. There was a sole inkling at the forefront of all the others: “What are some ulterior ways in which I can fool others into believing I look just like everybody else?”
Unsurprisingly, it had run through the options more than once. Plastic surgery would have been something to consider if the Monster had not been deathly afraid of knives. Makeup was a less extreme and money absorbing alternative that the Monster had already tried but realized to be inefficient – the flaws of the Monster were not ones that lent themselves to being made more beautiful by being painted over.
While occupied with these contemplations, the Monster lost track of its surroundings. A pool of filthy water soon accumulated at its feet.
“What…what’s this?…the drain must be clogged…”
The Monster stepped the soles of its feet onto the bath mat that was fortunately a deep blue, meaning that the sunken material would show only minimal signs of stains brought upon it by the dirty bathwater.
The next step was to visit the grocery store to pick up some Mr. Muscle. Since it was getting close to Christmas, the Monster thought it might be nice to buy some festive ornaments for the flat. After having dried itself with a fluffy, blue towel (identical to the color of the bathmat), the Monster got dressed. It only owned plain garments that were invariably of grey and brown varieties. Naturally, the purpose of hiding its body in these clothes was to attract as little attention as possible. In the past, the Monster had even tried wearing a mask over its face but had found this only to make the stares more intense. The use of such protective attire had since been abandoned.
By now the Monster had memorized the path to the store. Before leaving, the Monster used its smartphone to do a final check, in this way soothing its anxiety by convincing itself (quite unnecessarily) that it knew exactly where it was going. At exactly 14:00, the Monster stepped out the door.
The building in which the Monster lived was peculiar because no amount of cleaning could remove the stuffy scent from the halls. This stuffiness was even more apparent during the winter times, especially on days that were disgustingly damp. There had been more than a few of those this December, which was slightly unusual but not completely unheard of.
As the Monster stepped out of its flat it noticed – maybe due to the sharpness brought about by its newfound and unexpected holiday cheer – that the stuffy hall was carpeted with an azure covering and that the walls lining either side were milky white. At the end of the hallway the doors of the lift gleamed like the Star of Bethlehem, beckoning the Monster towards it. Auspiciously, there was no need to press the button to call the lift; it was already there for the taking. The sliding doors were slung wide open. Within them was a doorman sat on a wooden stool. It is important to note here that the doorman was not actually a living, breathing lifeform but an artificial intelligence (AI) built for the purpose of operating the lift. In line with the holiday protocol of the building, the machine tasked with the operation of this fundamental part of the building had been made to wear a santa hat.
“Happy holidays,” said the AI in a deceitfully high pitched intonation.
“Lobby please,” replied the Monster in a monotone.
In stark compliance, the AI tentatively pushed down the ‘Lobby’ button on the panel located on the right with respect to the doorway. A weighty force of pulleys slung the elevator down to ground level.
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The marble flooring of the lobby was patchy and arranged into squares and circles. The colors of this patterning ranged from light brown, to green to blue. These hues fit in so perfectly together that they seemed to have been chosen from the palette of the most exquisite interior designer. Towering above floor level was a huge Christmas tree. It was a magnificent fir, decorated with row upon row and layer upon layer of intensive ornaments.
Just last week the Monster had overheard other residents of the building conversing on the subject of the tree and had learned it to have been decorated solely by a trained AI without any correction from any living, breathing life form.
“Guess there’s not much left we can do better than machines these days,” considered the Monster.
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The Monster’s heightened sense of warmth and happiness was further improved by the fact that wonderfully ornate snowflakes were falling outside. One of the snowflakes floated shyly and melted on top of the Monster’s nose.
As it was only a few days away from Christmas eve, swarms of lifeforms were out and about, shopping for inexplicably exciting gifts to give to their presumably perfect families. The internal warmth of witnessing something as an individual was soon overshadowed by the anxiety posed by others.
The Monster climbed up a set of shallow steps to reach the sliding doors of the supermarket. The entrance opened for the Monster in the same way as it would have for any other lifeform.
A deathly glow of light spread from the linoleum carcass of the store. Such a strange sight it was to witness such a sterile place overcrowded by ornaments that had been implanted in order to satisfy consumerist interpretations of this important celebration.
Arriving into the supermarket just behind the Monster was a beautiful female life form. The Monster soon fell in step with her so that the two tread in parallel with one another. Despite their closeness (the woman could clearly tell she was being stared at) the Monster could not help but turn its head and bask in the beauty of this different kind of being.
“How could the most important asset in life have been divided so unjustly between us?” thought the Monster.
The object of the Monster’s interest had long, dark, flowing hair and pointed features. Not too pointed to the extent that she appeared angry or uptight, but just pointed enough to create that look of angularity that was (and still is) desirable and à la mode. Her body was equally as wonderful. It was just as it should be; curvy in a tight way. She had been blessed by both genetics as well as by a relevant nutrition and exercise routine. The pang of jealousy felt by the Monster in response to this superior being was gut wrenching.
“How could anything I ever achieve be halfway as good?” contemplated the Monster.
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After having acquired the Mr. Muscle, the Monster remembered its secondary goal.
The Christmas related stuff was all located in Aisle 13.
The Monster noticed that the attractive female that had entered the store at the same time was already in Aisle 13.
“It’s funny how we represents polar opposites of one another, yet we happen to be here on the same mission,” thought the Monster.
A third character emerged into Aisle 13 from around the bend. He was red cheeked and bright eyed; just the type you would imagine to make his living as an actor (employed for the sake of his looks and not due to his skill) and in his free time to be busy playing in the snow with his perfect family. He seemed exactly like the type who would never have to have a care in the world.
There were however, a few oddities related to the man. The first was that he happened to be suited in a santa costume. It was not one of those cheap santa costumes that one can buy from anywhere, but one that looks expensive and like the kind of thing the man would have put many days of thought and effort into obtaining.
There was also a dog that hung out on a leash besides the man. This canine was otherwise quite a standard brown dog of an unidentifiable breed except for a single detail: the dog carried on its head a deer horn that had been secured in place with some sort of wire.
Due to the strange details linked to the man stipulated above, the Monster had internally remarked on the subject of him but had not consciously paid him much attention until seeing him pull out a huge brown sac. The Monster watched in horror and confusion as the man slowly pulled out a brown, oblong pouch from some pocket on the inner layer of his santa jacket. Without a moment of hesitation he began shoving any and all of the Christmas themed objects into this bag. The actions of this mystery man would have been obviously identified as stealing if he would not have been so blatant in the act; he had absolutely no shame in taking as much as he could as quickly as he could. It was as if the thought of being caught and owning up to his actions had never occurred to him
“How are the security guards not noticing what’s going on here?” considered the Monster.
To the Monster’s surprise, the beautiful woman at the other end of Aisle 16 was not nearly as perplexed regarding the happenings. She gave a tired glance in the direction of the Thief and adjusted her pretty head slightly. Then she continued to shop and mind her own business without even a speckle of her conscience rattling on the inside of her perfect skull.
An irresistible urge suddenly overtook the Monster:
“You must do the right thing,” said the voice inside.
“Hey you!” called out the Monster.
Being addressed was not enough to scare the fake santa, but another look in the direction of the addresser was enough to make him afraid.
“I’m supposed to be the Grinch but it looks like you got unlucky and were blessed with the looks that should’ve come with my part,” said the Grinch.
“Get the hell out of here or I’m calling security,” said the Monster.
Dog barking and santa costume flapping in the wind, the Grinch made his escape past the part with the bananas and the grabbable snacks.
“I may be a Monster, but at least I’m not a Grinch,” thought the Monster.
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WAST WRTNG 