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Comic Book Monster-Food Short Story pg. 1 Word Count: 4967
Comic Book Culinary Monsters
How many people actually say they’ve relived events from their childhood? Suppose this variation on the re-enactment adversely affects them and their family, but they end up smiling about the incident afterwards? Almost no one. Every once in a while you hear about odd exceptions and here’s one for you.
Meet Preston Edwards (Payton to various friends and/or enemies). Father of three, aspiring Ad executive, and childhood comic book collector.Payton also loved to eat, and his earlier obsession with accumulating printed fantasy tales coupled with organizing the comics in an effort to sell them, and consuming nutritional sustenance had a strange way of coming back to haunt him.
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“Dad, when we going swimming? I’m ready, so how many more centuries before we leave?”
“All in good time Pay J. Right after I finish this stack.”
Then again, I told him that an hour ago. When you get
right down to it, I should’ve done this ten years ago. After listening to an extremely persistent four year old ask for the fifty-sixth time when we’re departing for the pool, I’m convinced this should’ve been done much sooner. At least before Pay J. and his two sisters came along.
Definitely would’ve been easier before finding myself buried under the 30-year mortgage, a job that averages 50 hours/week, and a loving, but high maintenance wife came along. Bit of an understatement that one. This is taking forever. Wonder whether there’s a potion that allows you to live on 4-5 hours of sleep?
“So how’s it going babe?” asked Gretchen as she handed a sandwich to her formerly enthusiastic comic book organizing husband. “Molly and Pay J. are getting restless. What say you take a break and we go to the pool.”
“Okay. Really weird Gretch. I can tell you my state of mind at the time I bought a certain comic by examining the type of books I was accumulating from the 70’s and 80’s.”
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“Let’s see. You were at the beginning of your college career, heavily influenced by your oddball friends, and living in that run-down old mansion. Gosh, was it horror comics?”
“Lots of them too.”
“Why am I not surprised? Any favorites?”
“Nocturnal Nightmares,” “Weird War Adventures,”
“Dr.
Houdini’s Ghost Tales.” You know, the usual suspects.”
All of a sudden Gretchen became interested since it didn’t
involve toddler reasoning. “You didn’t like monster comics?”
“Those were my favorites. I had this ongoing set of dreams
whereby I’d turn into the monster I read about in one of my comic books from the previous day.”
“What triggered the beast metamorphosis dreams?”
“I don’t know, but I do remember this; whatever I had for dinner ended up becoming part of the dream. If I read a comic dealing with zombies, then ate a pizza for dinner, my dream would be about walking dead pizza eaters.”
“Interesting Dr. Watson. So let’s say you read a vampire comic book in the afternoon, then ate a spinach salad for dinner. What then?”
I smiled as I reached for that stack of “Savage Skull- Crusher” comic books. “A dream about vampires searching for spinach patches to quench their insatiable thirst for leafy greens.”
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“Werewolves and apples?”
“A dream whereby I’d undergo a hideous metamorphosis into a werewolf who attacks nearby apple orchards.”
“I’m shuddering in mortal fear. Now what happened if you went to bed hungry?”
“Never occurred. As you and the kids know from living with yours truly, I’ve got a gluttonous sweet tooth. Most nights if I was hungry I’d tear into my candy bar stash before bed. Let’s say the comic book I read that day had to do with trolls. Dreams would be ravenous candy bar eating ogres.”
Gretchen wanted to return to some semblance of reality. “Okay then. Let me get the girls ready for the pool. How about we leave in a half hour?”
“Sounds good. Pay J.’s been itching to go for a while now, so we don’t need to light a fire under the kid’s ass.”
Even though we did’t have to force Pay J. to get moving, good thing I blocked off access to the basement recreation room where I’ve spread out my comic books. This area normally houses a wide assortment of toys. Still hasn’t stop Pay J. and Molly from figuring out ways to access the downstairs. Investigating for evidence of their playthings continued existence must be the primary reason?
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________
Gosh, a week has gone by and I’m still occupying the
basement with my collection. The kids are complaining and restlessness too. Guess Gretchen and I need to appease them. I’ve got it; we’ll take’em to the circus. Normally something we don’t like to do since it means a marked increase in the kid’s sugar consumption levels, but Pay J. saw that commercial on TV for the event. He’s suddenly become obsessed with elephants and the advertisement highlighted their presence. Thank God the commercial didn’t show any clowns. Like some people, Pay J. has a deep suspicion based on their facial features and motives, and therefore questions their protracted existence. Definitely takes after his father.
Other than Molly mixing cotton candy and Sprite together, then experimenting with the concoction as a hair dye supplement, the circus adventure wasn’t that memorable. The kids’ fell in love with, and took multiple rides on the Ferris wheel. That grand master was loud, bombastic, and fun. The trapeze act was very impressive, and Pay J. even got to touch an elephant.
As they were walking out, the Edwards family came across something Payton hadn’t seen since his collecting days.
“Is that cool or what? I didn’t even think those things still existed.”
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“Maybe that’s because they don’t exactly have a stellar record of results,” replied Gretchen, “If prediction and outcome for these fortune tellers ever got checked for accuracy, you’d see lots of clairvoyants working as garbage men.”
“Actually there probably a number of fortune tellers working in alternate professions. That has more to do with their massive salaries than anything else.”
“What’s a fortunate teller daddy?” asked Pay J. “Do they tell you what super hero you’re going to turn into?”
“Maybe,” said Payton. “Fortunate tellers are sort of like Hollywood autobiographers.”
Pay J. wondered what a Hollywood autobiology was, but decided not to ask. He found it best not to inquire about these adult sorts of things.
“Rachel’s diaper needs changing,” said Gretchen. “I’ll kill two birds with one stone and take her and Molly back inside. What say you kill some time by having your fortune read?”
“What about Pay J.?”
“Take him with you.” Gretchen glanced over at her son. “Will you be a good boy and wait for daddy to finish Pay J.?”
An opportunity to find out what an autobiology was? Pay J. got excited. “I promise mommy.”
Gretchen smiled. “What you got to lose honey?”
“Nothing. Except my wallet becoming a bit lighter.”
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A thick red velvet curtain was pulled back to reveal a dark, mysterious, interior. This was due in large part to the room’s blackness and the various accents scattered throughout. Artifacts from every part of the world decorated the surroundings. Including decorative Arabic tiles placed between the walls and ceiling. In the corners, what looked like miniature voodoo dollrepresentations of monsters from various cultures around the world (Pay J. was fascinated with these particular artifacts). Gretchen on the other hand, would call them dust-collecting figurines.
Right next to the statues were clay pots of various sizes and shapes. God only knows what the contents were? The ceiling of the room was a representation of a deep, star-lit nightscape. So many stars, and so well rendered that it looked life-like in its appearance. I wondered whether one could actually set up a ladder to reach out to touch it.
Even the smell of the room drew us in. A beautiful Hodge podge of fragrances from all over, this despite the room’s musty appearance. Not a mixture of toddler detritus, overcooked pot roast, and dog food. The room’s odor alone could probably have me coming back for more.
Everything in the enclosure had that appearance of something that could easily enrapture and mesmerize you.Including the man sitting in the far corner. Wearing a long,
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flowing, dark blue robe with an equally lengthy white beard and hypnotic emerald green eyes. Fingernails that looked like they hadn’t been manicured in a decade or so.
At first his appearance scared Pay J. who ran over to his father and grabbed onto my pants with a vice-like death grip. Then the man looked at the boy, smiled, casually waved his hand, and just as rapidly aligned the boy’s fears with a resulting calm. Pay J. actually stepped forward in the man’s direction.
The Rasputin looking mystic spoke first. “Welcome to my humble surroundings. I’ve been awaiting your arrival.”
Really? How’s that possible when I wasn’t even going to visit till I got talked into this? Glad I did though; this odd assortment of things and the overall appearance really seems to have pulled me in. “Have you got time to read my fortune? I’m curious to find out what my future is?”
“As am I to reveal it to you.”
Yeah right. Gretchen probably wants to know what sort of bullshit predictions you’ll feed me. “Ok then. Alright if my son sits in on my reading?”
“Yes. This is a crucial element to the events I am about to disclose to you.”
Oh really? That must mean Gretchen and I are going to teach Pay J. the proper way to change Rachel’s diaper. Can’t wait for him to tell me how that’s going to happen.
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Mystetron the Mystic snapped his fingers and a chair miraculously appeared out of nowhere while Payton wasn’t looking. Pay J. on the other hand witnessed the entire incident and was stunned. He began to wonder how the guy was able to pull that off. He figured it was probably an adult thing.
“You can sit here Pay J.,” said Payton. “Do you remember your promise to mommy? You need to be very quiet.”
“Yes sir.”
“Please give me your hand Mr. Edwards.”
How the Hell does he know my surname? I don’t remember
telling it to him? “Why do I need to do that?” asked Payton with a disconcerted look on his face.
“We must establish a physical contact with the spiritual world in order for your future to be revealed.”
Whatever. “Ok.”
Mystetron reached across the table and grabbed my hands. The guy’s grip was almost as powerful as Pay J.’s earlier chokehold on my leg.
All of a sudden Mystetron began shaking. He started to look up and his pupils rose steadily to the point of completely disappearing in the back of his skull. His eyeballs suddenly became completely opaque and both Pay J. and I sat there and witnessed the transformation in utter amazement.
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Just as quickly Pay J. started to wish he could pull this fantastic eyeball maneuver off to freak Molly out. He figured it might come in handy when she was bothering him.
“I have established a very strong link to your future Mr. Edwards. We will envision events as they are meant to transpire in the future.”
“Like a home movie of what’s going to happen to me?”
“Yes.”
“Hey Pay J. you hear that,” said Payton. “We’re going to
watch everything that’s about to take place in my future.”
“Cool,” said the visibly excited four-year-old. He had no
idea why he should feel this way, but his dad seemed pumped, so he decided this was the way to act.
“My link with the spiritual worldtells me your dreams are very strong and will come to life. Why this will take place we do not know. Ours is not to question the meaning of events that occur, but to let them transpire.’
Is this guy for real? “Interesting.”
“My feeling is that the material you are reading has a power that manifests itself in very mysterious ways.”
Right at that moment a miniature cloud began to materialize on top of the table. Then it started to disperse and in its center a vision of Payton lounging on the couch at the Edwards family basement appeared. He’s perusing one of his favorite
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comic books, “Astonishing Tales of Frankenstein’s Monster”. Totally engrossed in his choice of reading material and with a huge smile on his face.
Next we see the Payton Avatar running upstairs where he rips open the refrigerator. Quickly grabbing a jar of Strawberry-Banana flavored yogurt and begins gobbling it down.
What the f*&k? This is like something out of those whacked- out childhood dreams of mine. “What’s this supposed to be telling me?”
Mystetron himself began to wonder if the visions had any sort of meaning in the drug free world too. The next set of images only added to the mystery.
The cloud above Mystetron coalesced, then dispersed to reveal Payton reading another comic book, ”The Savage Dragon Lords”. Next we see him opening a can of processed cheese spread and crackers. The vision fades.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” said the embarrassed mystic. “These images don’t make sense to me?”
“Me either.”
“I feel that I should be giving you your money back,” said Mystetron, sweating like a fat guy in a sauna. “This has never happened before and I apologize.”
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Pay J. tugged on his dad’s shirtsleeve and whispered in his ear. “What’s happening daddy? Tell that guy to make his eyeballs do that crazy thing again.”
“No son, it’s time to go home. Say “goodbye” to the nice man.”
Mystetron was as good as his word and gave Payton his $50 back before father and son got up and left.
_______________
“How was the reading?” asked Gretchen during the ride home.
“That guy’s as big a crackpot as all the other fortune tellers I’ve ever had the displeasure of dealing with.”
“That’s sad.”
“Fortunately he must’ve felt guilty since he gave me my money back.”
“So then everything worked out.”
“I suppose.”
That night before nodding off, I found myself thinking about the odd encounter with Mystetron the Mystic. Kept coming back to that vision of myself with the Frankenstein comic. At the time when the book was first being published (right on the cusp of my freshman year in college), it did indeed become my favorite source of comic book reading material.
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What was it about that particular source of graphic entertainment that made it so popular with me? Maybe it was the artist? The series’ regular draftsman, one Wallace Wilburwaite, who just so happened to be one of my all time favorites. Funny how that guy could do things with pen and ink that almost made you want to reach out and kiss every page he illustrated.
Kissing a comic book page? Boy does that sound whacked out or what? Must mean fans of comic book reading material are at a substantially higher level of eccentricity that most folks? Thank God I’ve outgrown that phase of my life and won’t pass it on to Pay J. or his sisters.
Quite possibly it was the ongoing writer for the book? Dragba Turkoglarry. A Serbian immigrant that got regularly arrested for protesting unfair treatment to chickens. That is when his mind wasn’t coming up with fantastic story lines for the Frankenstein comic book. That biography in “Comic Weekly” said he was doing the complaining long before PETA ever showed up on the scene. Bit of a rebel that guy, and sort of like me actually. Maybe that’s the reason why I liked him so much?
Then “Comic Weekly” said his favorite Rock-n-Roll group was “Jiff & the Choosy Muthas.” Only the greatest Indie Rock band of the 1990’s. That alone was reason to like him.
The first chance I get tomorrow I’ll dig through those stacks of comics and find that collection of “Astonishing Tales
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of Frankenstein’s Monster”. It’ll be such a hoot to find them and re-read the storylines for old time sake.
_______________
Searching through those stacks of comic books to find the
Frankenstein treasures was actually pretty easy. Wow, a rare afternoon away from the office and Gretchen having taken the girls to pick up Pay J. from an afternoon pre-school field trip.
This is fantastic. I’ve got the whole house to myself and able to spend it re-living my youth. Free moments are a very precious commodity for Gretchen and I at this particular moment in our lives.
Turns out I’ve got an unbroken storyline. Every issue of the comic book from #1 clear up to #44. Is this cooler than Pay J. with a new toy in that ever-expanding collection of his or what? Are we spoiling him too much? Kid has more toys than zombies have brain consumption bad breath.
First I’ll separate out all the Frankensteins in my collection, clear the couch, then kick back and relax. So sweet spending the remainder of the afternoon reading most of them. Hard not to smile since life really doesn’t get much better than this.
Ummm-3:15 pm, so that means I’ve been doing this
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Indulgence fest of mine for over two hours now. Could use a break to appease my sweet tooth. Wonder what Gretchen has in the refrigerator I can gobble down? Hopefully some of those cinnamon rolls the kids haven’t squished into an unrecognizable mess.
You’ve got to be kidding me. Why’d I even sprint up the stairs, search through the entire refrigerator, and all I can find is a tub of Banana-strawberry yogurt? In a word, “this sucks”. Actually that’s two words, but who’s keeping track.
What the Hell is wrong with me? 3:15 in the am and all of a sudden I can’t get back to sleep. This is obviously because I got away from the normal routine of changing diapers, chasing rug rats, and trying to appease Gretchen by cleaning up after those self same miniature garbage generators.
No, I shouldn’t say that. One of the truly great things in this life is having the kids run to the room just so they can crawl in bed with Gretchen and I. Despite the fact that it happens like clockwork at 6:00 am every morning.
Why’s it so hard to drag myself out of bed just walking to the bathroom? Oh my god, looking into the mirror my face is transforming itself like a bad drug trip nightmare. Turning the color of pea green soup. My eyes are becoming all bloodshot and
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it feels like every joint in my body aches. Oh my god. Now metal knobs are growing out of the side of my neck? Feels like my skull is flatting out too. Looks like the top of my head’s been opened up, then reattached haphazardly with string. Why is this happening to me?
_______________
Later that morning Gretchen tried valiantly to calm
everyone down while making breakfast for her four children.
“The cops told me they traced the aftermath of that grocery
store break-in back to our house.”
“That’s insane baby,” said a blanket covered, shivering
Payton. “I didn’t sleep very well last night, and felt like death warmed over when I woke up, but in no way do I remember leaving the house. What’d they say the crooks took during their robbing spree?”
“Not much. Apparently the robbers just ransacked the dairy section. Broke into a few cases and took every container of yogurt in the store.”
“What?”
“I like yogurt too,” said Pay J. “Can I have some now?”
“No Pay J.,” said Gretchen as she glared menacingly at her
significant other. “Somebody ate the entire tub of Strawberry- banana I bought at the store yesterday.”
_______________
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Later that evening after we’d put the kids to bed, I walked down into the basement and did more comic book organizing. Ran across a collection of “Cowboy Ghost Maverick,” comics, and then took the requisite break to read a few.
The next morning Gretchen found herself once again having to calm her husband’s nerves while madly dashing around the kitchen to feed her brood.
Her hair didn’t look too frazzled. “Another robbery last night. News says somebody seems to have rode a horse into that Italian restaurant.”
“Mr. Luigi’s”?” asked Payton.
“Yup. Stole all the lasagnathey’d prepared from their walk-in fridge.”
“How’d they know it was a robber on a horse?”
“The animal left something for “Luigi’s” management. An investigator stepped in it.”
“You’re going to take us horse back riding?” asked an excited Pay J. “You hear that Molly, we’re going to the rodeo.”
“No we’re not,” said Payton. “It’s a school day. Maybe this weekend if you’re good. Lucky too.”
Gretchen started investigating. “While we’re on the subject of lasagna, you snuck down stairs and ate that leftover tray we had for dinner last night, didn’t you?”
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Payton bowed his head. “I can not tell a lie. You’re really getting an insatiable appetite for Italian foods aren’t you Pay J.?”
“What’s insaishawnable mean? Is my friend Shawn going to show me his new Trek Deck Dude?”
Man, this is really getting strange. If I’m involved in any way do I need the aggravation? No.
_______________
Besides having a title that didn’t exactly endear itself to
a lot of Christian conservatives, “Heinrich Hellspawn, Occult Detective” was very unconventional. A few months after it was first published in April of 1994, a number of pastors at evangelical mega-churches throughout the U.S. called for a total boycott of not just “Heinrich Hellspawn”, but every comic book published by “Magnificent Tales”.
Needless to say this resulted in all sorts of contentiousness and controversy. Because of this fact, and various other maverick qualities, Heinrich Hellspawn became my favorite title to read and collect.
I loved the fact that the comic’s protagonist Heinrich Herbert rebelled against his satanic upbringing and instead joined the forces of truth, justice, and the Boston supernatural detective way. Heinrich seemed to solve every crime by going
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about collecting clues unconventionally. Often achieving his objectives by using vigilante methods of various sorts.
I liked to say we’re using Heinrich Herbert’s methods to raise the kids. Gretchen of course disagreed and told me all that candy I ate as a kid, along with my prodigious comic book reading, had caused an extreme case of ADHD. She mildly worried that Pay J. was inheriting many of his father’s stranger tendencies, but I chose to ignore that.
Gretchen had in fact developed some detective skills of her own. Both her mother and father worked as investigators for the city of Denver, and during her youth the three of them played games trying to figure out various unsolved crimes. I remember her telling me “Clue” was a favorite board game as a kid.
She decided not to tell me that the “Luigi robbery” investigators had followed the horse tracks back to our neighborhood. Not all the way to our house, but the direction seemed to point towards nearby stables instead. She began to put two and two together when she wasn’t refilling sippy cups, and came to some disturbing conclusions. Disturbing in her eyes at least.
Gretchen wondered whether or not this comic book organizing thing of mine had anything to do with the bizarro robberies? It sure seemed like whatever I ate before going to bed resulted in a strange abduction of the exact same product that very night?
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How much longer was her significant other planning to keep organizing these comic books down in the basement before I sold them anyway? Complaints about access were already coming in daily from the toddler lobby.
She really didn’t have much time to contemplate these trivial matters though. Nobody came to question them, and Molly’s first tooth was coming in. Rachel’s daily food distribution all over the majority of her face was a more pressing concern too.
Slowly but surely the investigation became a cold case file. Work kept me from doing anything new with the comic books, and no new robberies had taken place in town. Things stayed normal, and therefore very boring for the next two weeks.
Then the spring recital at Pay J.’s preschool came upand the situation shifted dramatically. The performance was at 6:00 p.m., so between taking care of the girls and my wife’s never ending clean up, that meant she wouldn’t have time to prepare any sort of dinner before the show. Take out was the only option for that evening’s entree.
I took off from my job early that afternoon. Just to be sure I’d make it to the recital on time, and when I got home nobody was there to greet me as I walked in the door.
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Outstanding, I don’t have to be at Pay J.’s school till 5:30 so that means I’ve got two hours to kill before leaving. More comic book collating? Obviously. Can’t help rubbing my hands together. This is almost as exciting as the kids sleeping an extra half hour during their naptime. Guess I’m easily entertained these days.
Really cool; the first book I come across is “Heinrich Hellspawn”, only the greatest horror offering of all time. Is this some sort of destiny or what?
Damn, I’ve just wasted that entire two hours reading “Hellspawn” comics instead of organizing the collection. Oh well, better get to the school. No harm done.
The recital was your typical toddler extravaganza. Complete with six musical numbers, dancing, one or four lines being fumbled, and every parent leaving the performance that night deciding to find a talent agent for their offspring.
“So Gretch., what’d you pick up for dinner?”
“Hi to you too. Obviously we all know where your mind happens to be at the present moment.”
I picked Rachel up out of her stroller. “You know what I mean. Seriously, what’s this evening’s grub offering?”
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“I decided to stop at that Vietnamese place.Noodle bowls sound good don’t they?”
Pigs have on occasion been known to fly, and in a weird convergence of elements-everything came together that night. Gretchen caught Molly and Rachel fighting over a toy earlier in the day, and the aggravation of having to play peacemaker/bad cop was resulting in a restless night of sleep. It’s a good thing she couldn’t doze off too. She had a front row seat to my entire sleep walking performance.
Suddenly I bolted upright and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Payton,” said Gretchen in a booming voice, until she
suddenly realized it might wake the kids. “What’s going on?”
I totally ignored her exclusively because I was in the REM
phase of my slumber? Got up and walked straight to the closet and retrieved a gray trench coat that was only used for the occasional business trip and Halloween costumes. The transformation started to occur. My hair color changed into a fiery mixture of red and white, and the hairdo itself mutated into a straight-as-nails buzz cut. A tail began to grow out of my backside, and my skin color morphed into a bright red, like that of a sunburned Albino.
Gretchen realized I was fast asleep so she started following me downstairs. Immediately called a friend and pleaded
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with her to come and watch the kids since it was an emergency, then followed me out the door.
The Heinrich Hellspawn impersonator began to walk in the direction of “Bao Thach’s Culinary Treasures”. The premier Vietnamese restaurant in Littleton, Colorado. Only three blocks from our house and the favorite eating establishment for Molly and Pay J. to throw food at one another.
At first Gretch. kept her distance out of fear that she might wake me, but then she nipped things in the bud. I’m sure she felt proud of herself for figuring out a way to wake me from my walking dream. Before things got too far out of hand as it were.
“Wow,” said Payton. “How was it you were able to wake me from my comic book monster coma?”
Gretchen smiled. “Actually the idea just popped into my head. Ran up in front of you, looked straight into those demonic looking eyes..”
“Why do you say demonic?”
“Well for one thing the whites were actually black.”
“Creepy.”
“Yeah, and the pupils were this deep bright yellow color.
Almost looked like they were glowing. Slit-like in shape too.”
“Pay J. would probably think they’re really cool.”
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“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said Gretchen. “Anyway, then I screamed into your face, well at least as much as I could without waking the neighborhood and bringing the cops down on us, “You don’t have to sell all your comic books, only the majority of them!””
“Really?”
“That woke you up right as you were about to smash the restaurant window.”
Payton let out a huge sigh of relief. “Good thing you did. Pay J. would have to spend a lot of time washing dishes to pay for that.”
“So get rid of most of the comic books, but keep the ones you want to hold onto for nostalgic reasons.”
“Okay, sounds good,” said a relieved Payton.
“Only read them when we know you can’t cause harm to any people or things that night.”
“Got it.”
“Plus when you read one of your favorites, go to bed hungry. You’ll survive, I’ve got faith in you.”
“Either that or eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
Gretchen frowned. “What are you crazy? I don’t want the doors ripped off the kitchen cabinets.”
“Might be difficult explaining that one to Pay J. & Molly.”
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“Definitely, I’m not going to tell them all the peanut butter is gone because their father turned into a troll and ate it?”
END
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