ANNOUNCEMENT! The administrator of this website has decided to change this week’s format. Rather than a monster being featured, below you will find an invigorating and possibly scathing interview with a local monster groupie. This week’s lack of a MOW has nothing to do what-so-ever with the Fuzz Care Trade Show currently occurring in Swampholm. Nothing. What-so-ever. Off you go!…
Doper is a student at the Swmapholm Academy of Wee Thinking, and an avid fan of famous monsters. As well as a fan of all things sugar. And T.V.
Us: Doper, who would you say is your favorite monster on the scene right now?
Doper: Isthh prappabllly…mawwwa…wawaw… (Doper pauses to swallow a mouthful of Slippery Tooth Zoots. He gags a little on the last bit.) Acckkkkk. Exkuz me. Me vas finishink snack. Um, yah, probably de best monstuh on duh schene right nuh-ow is Swolly De Tongue. He totally rawks vid his impressionistic schpit-ink.
Us: Swolly certainly seems a local favorite. Tell us, just how many Slippery Tooth Zoots – try ’em today! – Excuse, me, Doper. Obligation to our sponsor. Just how many Slippery Tooth Zoots can you fit in your…
Doper: Sawry! Got to go! Insane Carnage and Pals TV is on!
Us: Uhhhhh. Um. Okay, folks, back to your…Slippery Tooth Zoots! Can’t gag on just one!
Petunia is a guy. And by guy, we mean guy. Like, “Hey, bub. What’s happening’, see? This is how it’s going down, see…” And by guy, we of course mean he’s a slitherant. Petunia is a natural leader who keeps things on schedule and keeps his fellow out-of-work monsters from getting too long in the mouth. Or maw. He is particularly fond of making faces requiring a fully extended (forked) tongue.
Phil The Tizzies
Phil’s rise to the top of the monster game wasn’t all sweet pickles and bed bugs. Though his handsome visage belies it, he has struggled inwardly with outward appearance. Right? I mean, seriously! He’s a handsome bomb who sends all the villagers reeling with his 30/45 vision. His product line of tentacle wax and lip rougher-uper allows those of the common ilk to dream large, believing in the dream; the dream that one day they, too, can have a The before their name. (If they make a purchase over fifty dollars.)
Mr. Stinkclair has friends, but they are often far from near; he has his name for a reason. A neat freak by nature, his overriding laziness makes it impossible to carry out his compulsion to stay squeaky clean. He doesn’t just live, he ferments. None-the-less, Upton is a likable fellow (from a distance) and he makes sure to stay current with the newest fad monsters, buying any and all of their new beautification products: fang gleamifiers, horn polish, descaler, you name it. Mr. Stinkclair is a libra. On his mother’s side.
Bobby is an NFM (Non-Famous Monster) who specializes in performing orchestral armpit flatulence. (Despite having no arms. Or pits.) She is a bobbing little fuzz blob who can rip out a mean version of Sonata to Your Left Thigh while not winning her audience over. (What can we say? Currently there’s not much of a market for this art form in Swampholm.) Bobby enjoys nibbling root vegetables, napping on larger monster’s bellies, and quiet moments spent adjusting her bow tie.