______________________________________________________________________________ T ||==\\ || || ||==\\ ||==|| || || B L E N D E R C O R P O R A T I O N || || || || || || || \\ // ------------------------------------ H || || || || ||==// ||=|| >|< >>> Presents <<< || || || || || \\ || // \\ MONKEYPW.DBC E ||==// \\==// || \\ ||==|| || || #026-FH01 -- [10/07/92] ______________________________________________________________________________ Fishead presents: My retelling of the horror classic - THE MONKEY'S PAW. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Once in a small Vermont town named Munguwuppanog, there lived a very poor, but very happy family. The father was once a Chippendale's dancer with dreams of making it big in Hollywood,but a farming accident reduced him to a near cripple. Even so,he held on to his dreams. In fact, he spent all his free time studying to be an Elvis impersonator. His wife had to give up her carreer as a kickboxer to devote all her time to taking care of her husband and the farm. Now, their only income came from their nineteen year old son, who had dropped out of high school to take a job at Dunkin' Donuts, operating a machine that punched the holes in the doughnuts. It was a friday night, the family had just finished playing Pictionary, and they were gathering by the piano for their traditional friday night family sing-along, when there came a knock on the door. Munguwuppanog was a very secluded town, and its citzens usually kept to themselves if they could help it. Visitors were very rare. Father figured it was either a census taker or a tax collector. He got his hunting rifle out of the closet and answered the door. It turned out to be an old blind soldier with a tin can collecting for the new Veteran's hospital. The father was getting ready to shoot the man and rob him of his money when the old man yelled "Wait! I have something in my pocket that is much more valuable to you than what's in this tin can." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a dirty white handkerchief. He unfolded the handkerchief to reveal a shriveled up, mummified monkey's paw. He explained, "It had a spell put on it by an old lady. She gave it to me, right before she was convicted of witchcraft. She told me that it had the power to grant three wishes to one man. I have not used it, and have kept it a secret from the world until now. I have a strong belief in fate and that those who try to alter its course eventually wind up doomed. But no matter how strong my religion, I refuse to believe that it is my destiny to be pumped full of lead by a backwoods inbred redneck, so I'll give you this paw, in exchange for my life." The Father took the paw and slammed the door in the old man's face. He abruptly cancelled the friday night family sing-along and called a family meeting. He showed his family the paw and related the old man's story. He then held the paw in the air, rubbed it, and said "Please give me two million dollars." He thought that he saw the paw came to life for one second and snap its small fingers, but he figured it was just his imagination. The three sat in silence for an hour, waiting for something to happen. The father finally gave up and went to bed. He cursed himself for being so stupid and gullible, and he cursed his parents for being first cousins. When he woke up the next morning, his son had already left for his job at the doughnut shop. Before getting out of bed, he checked under the pillows, just in case. He found nothing. So the father and mother wasted away another afternoon studying the art of elvis and waiting for their son to come home with his paycheck. Around four o'clock, there was a knock at the door. "That's peculiar," said Mom. "The doughnut shop doesn't close until seven on weekends, and he has his own set of housekeys. There must be something wrong." Sure enough, the man at the door was not her son, it was his boss. With a very grave expression he said, "I regret to be the one to have to tell you this, but there was a tragic accident involving the new doughnut maker today. Your son is dead. It seems he fell into the machine that stuffs the jelly into the jelly doughnuts. The machine tried, somewhat succesfully, to stuff your son into a jelly doughnut. It took us a few hours to discover what had happened... We recovered about sixty percent of his body intact, and we immediately pulled all the jelly doughnuts off the shelf." He continued to speak, "You must understand that Dunkin' Donuts is in no way liable for this occurance, but on behalf of Dunkin Donuts, I'd like to present you with this check for two million dollars, as compensation for your loss. You must understand, if you accept this check, you cannot in the future file a lawsuit or alert the press." They accepted the check in horror. Three days later, they buried the remains of their son in the local graveyard. They recovered most of his upper body intact. He was missing his left fore-arm and three fingers on his right hand. They only recovered half his skull, thus they could only find one of his contact lenses. His body had been completley bi-sected at the waist, and the two halves were held together by only his large intestine, which had uncoiled itself to the length of twelve feet. His legs were an indecipherable mass of broken bones, held together by patches of skin. They figured the rest of him lay somewhere inside the weekend's jelly doughnuts, so they bought all of them (they numbered almost six dozen). With their newfound wealth, they bought him a tuxedo to be buried in so he wouldn't be naked. They tried their hardest to dress him, shoveled the bloody pulp that was their son into a coffin, placed the six dozen doughnuts next to him, nailed it shut, said a prayer, and buried him. Weeks passed without much incident... The husband and wife were having so much fun spending their money that they nearly forgot that they ever HAD a son. But soon they came to realize that the only thing their money couldn't do was bring their son back to life. They had completley forgotten about the monkey's paw until their new maid uncovered it one day while house cleaning. Upon hearing about the discovery, the father immediately cancelled his plans for the day and called a family meating. They all voted to see if they should use the paw to bring their son back to life. As usual, the father and mother voted against each other, but the son was no longer around to offer the tie-breaking vote. So they reasoned that the only way around the political gridlock was to use the paw, resurrect their son, and get his vote. The only other solution would be to give birth to a child, so that it could offer the decisive vote -- but they would have to wait 9 months, and dead bodies don't last that long, and neither do jelly doughnuts. Besides, if they DID decide to resurrect their son, there would then be 4 voters at family meetings, and that would just spell more political gridlock in the future. They decided to go with their first plan. So the father rubbed the paw and spoke aloud, "Please,if you can hear me, please return our son to us." This time, the monkey's paw snapped its small fingers two times. They sat on the couch and waited all day in silence. After a while, they got bored, so they watched a Brady Bunch marathon on television. They soon became lost in the rich storylines and complicated subplots. They seriously contemplated using the monkey paw's third and final wish to turn them into Bradys. It was near midnight, they were watching the episode where Marsha swallows the football. That was when they first heard it... The noise. Just as Marsha was about to scream "Ooooh my nose!", they heard a noise coming from somewhere outside. They turned off the television and listened. It was not the light footsteps on gravel they expected to hear..... it was a low slithering sound, mixed with a hideous crunching noise, and underscored by a strange slurpiness and a bizzare rolling noise that could only be made by a blown tire or by half a skull. The father courageously peeked out the window, and he could see a dark, mangled, shapeless shadow slowly creeping its way up the road and taking a turn at the front gate. He screamed, pulled down the shade, and jumped behind the sofa with his wife. The awful dragging noise continued, and gained in speed and momentum, until it was only inches from the front door. There was a minute's silence as the blob on the front steps patientley waited for his mother and father to fling the door open wide and attack their son with a barrage of hugs and kisses. He wondered if it was too late to play a game of charades with him. Of Course! Thats why they weren't coming out to greet him! It was nearly midnight and they fell asleep on the couch waiting. Oh how he hated to wake them. But he missed them so! He awkwardly raised a boney protrusion that was probably once part of his spine. THUMP.... THUMP.... THUMP.... He loudly knocked three times. There was no answer...his parents just held each other in fear. THUMP.... THUMP.... THUMP.... He tried again, but still they didn't hear him. He was getting very annoyed. He gathered strength as he prepared to unleash one final onlaught of knocks. THUMP.... THUMP.... THUMP.... THUMP.... THUMP.... THUMP.... (they became louder and more rhythmic) THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! The mother was in hysterics. The father could stand it no longer. He grabbed the monkey's paw and screamed "MAKE THAT NOISE GO AWAY!!! MAKE HIM GO AWAY FOREVER!!!!!" The monkey's paw snapped three times and disappeared, along with the geletinous blob on their front steps that was once their son. They both fell asleep in front of the television, watching the Brady Bunch. They had tried to make themselves believe that the whole ordeal was only a bad dream, but this was impossible, for the next morning they discovered that their son had left behind a 2 inch thick trail of grape jelly, leading from their front steps down the country road to places unknown. THE END ______________________________________________________________________________ (C)1992 by Fishead and The Durex Blender Corporation All Rights Available at the Door. No Reservations. Q: How many Surrealists does it take to screw in a lightbulb? A: The Fish! 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