So… Over at io9.com they have writing prompts, which I’ve had no interest in doing prior, but today’s… today’s seem like a hoot, and so I did a take on it. It’s below, and you can see the original io9 post here:http://io9.com/concept-art-writing-prompt-the-monsters-that-crashed-t-513586914
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All had been fine until stupid Brian Finkleman yelled “Freebird!”
Well, sure… there was the initial “What The Fuck” moment when the waxed and polished floorboards of the basketball court peeled back like the spiraling streamers hanging from the ceiling, revealing “The Host”… andyes, Idiot Tommy Baxter and the rest of football team tried to “be heroic”, screaming they’d defend the class of 2013 until their dying breath. (Dumb Tommy, always looking for a fight.) …but that was short lieved when the tallest member of the Host, Baeleth, scratched the top of his veiny skull, obviously puzzled by Tommy’s challenge.
“My dear boy…” he spoke in a voice echoing like distant thunder and wind chimes “You mistake our intentions, I fear.”
He briefly glanced to the creatures flanking him on both sides, as if to confirm that their original intentions still stood. It appeared they did, as he gave a quick, clipped nod before continuing, “We’ve not come for any sort of ruckus… oh heavens no. We’ve come to dance!”
His tentacle-faced companion with the dreamy deltoids and pecs… Suggoth… quickly chimed in “and punch! Don’t forget the punch!” Baeleth smiled, each tooth in his grin the size of one of a basketball backboard. “Yes, yes, of course good man, the punch as well.”
The tension hung in the air… none of us sure what to do about the Host crashing the prom, until that trampBecky finally cut through the crowd, making a beeline for Suggoth, wrapping her harms around his massive bicep, giggling that he “Looked so strong”, and pulling that stupid little-girl-voice shit that she does, asked “Do you want to dance withme?”
Of course he did.
The fucking tramp.
Suggoth should have been MY Hot-Demon-Beast-From_another-World.
After Becky broke the ice, everyonestarted mingling, the music started pumping again, and I was determined that… before the end of this night, Suggoth was gonna be MY monster.
Drinks and dances, and discussions, and laughter… it’s all a blur. “Actually, we’re not so fond of the ‘Goths’… terribly pretentious and depressing, they are.” Confided She’hekah, an Egyptian creature of some ancient dynasty. Wellvax, a rather badger-y looking fellow who could use some serious time with waxing kept asking Tommy why the folks in England called a game football, and why we called a game football, but it was obviously not the same game. I don’t know who was more confused in that discussion, Tommy or Wellvax.
…and slowly, surely, I was making my way over to Suggoth. I had just the most clever opening line… “Come here often?” and was just about to tap him on his SCRUMPTIOUS muscled shoulder when Brian fucked it all up.
“FREEEEEEBIRDDDD!” He howled with his stupid stoner girlfriend from the top of the scoreboard. I don’t know how he got up there, but that’s Brian… if there’s a way to be the biggest asshole, he’ll figure out how to make it happen.
All of a sudden, the gym was silent. The happy chatter was gone, and the Host… every. Last. One. Of. Them. Turned to look at Brian, then they turned in unison to the DJ. Baeleth was just starting to speak… “Good sir, I begof you, do not play…” when the first strains of that horrible, horrible song came over the speakers.
“If I leave here tomorrrrahhh, will ya still reeememberrr meeee…”
Then, all hell broke loose.
Stupid Brian Finkleman.
