The Humdrum Lives of Cryptids, Monsters, and Villains Read online

The Humdrum Lives Of Cryptids, Monsters, And Villains

   

   

   

  By: M. R. Holman

   

  Text copyright © 2016 M. R. Holman

   All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Minotaur: Ordering a Pizza to the Labyrinth

  Zombie: Attending an Outdoor Music Festival

  Loch Ness Monster: Ordering an Electric Guitar

  Werewolf: Opening a Cafe

  The Robot Loch Ness Monster: Trying Stand-Up Comedy Again

  Bigfoot: Starting a Blog

  A Day in the Afterlife of Bigfoot's Ghost: Renewing a Library Card

  Some Ado About Literally Everything: A Play by William Snakespeare

  Dragon: Selected for Jury Duty

  Mermaid: Replacing a VCR

  Bigfoot: A Trip to the Grocery Store

  Centaur: A Subpar Vacation Experience

  A Brief Note to the Reader

  Minotaur: Ordering a Pizza to the Labyrinth

  Torchlight flickered deep in the damp, maze-like halls of a labyrinth. The light reflected off the back of a minotaur's long, razor sharp horns. The front of the minotaur's horns were reflecting the light from an open refrigerator.

  The cool air spilt over the minotaur's hooves as it bent its gargantuan body over and examined the contents of the embarrassingly understocked refrigerator. The minotaur, whose name was Torrance, pushed aside the few items contained in the refrigerator, desperately hoping that some unknown treat or morsel of food may present itself to him.

  "Nothing!" Torrance grunted as he moved the lone carton of Minotaur Milk to reveal a nearly empty jar of apricot jam. "Nothing worth eating anyways..." he said as he eyed a black banana in the fruit drawer in the bottom of the refrigerator. It took a great deal of self-control not to wretch at the sight of it. He slammed the drawer shut, deciding to deal with the rotten banana later, maybe when his appetite had been satiated and his will was stronger.

  Torrance closed the refrigerator door as well and opened the freezer. His humanoid hands darted for a frost laded box in the corner of the freezer. It was hardly even visible beneath the mountain of ice that had accumulated over it. It would not budge. It was frozen in place.

  His fingernails scratched at the ice until the cover of the bright blue box was visible. The vivid red words on the cover read: 'One Minute Microwave Minotaur Meals - Voted the Number One Microwavable Dinner of 1998'.

  "1998... Goodness," Torrance said under his breath. He had not even lived in this particular labyrinth for that long. Had this One Minute Microwave Minotaur Meal really been hidden in the corner of his freezer since he had moved in? And more importantly, was a microwaveable meal safe to eat if it had been frozen for almost two decades?

  He decided to call his mother and ask her. She had always been frugal when it came to the grocery spending, and had always been able to stretch out their supplies as long as possible so as to avoid going to the Crypto-Supermarket. Minotaurs are notorious shut-ins.

  He walked into his living room, turned down the volume on his blaring television, and picked up his cell phone. As he sat down on his comfortable leather couch, he scrolled through his contact list until he found his mother. He noticed that it had been over a week since he had last called her, and he prepared to be scolded for such as he pressed send.

  The phone rang twice before a disgruntled, deep female voice answered the phone, "Well, well, well..."

  "Hey mom," Torrance said, rolling his eyes. His mother was always so dramatic when he forgot to call her for this long. His hooves tapped nervously against his stone floor.

  "I suppose you need something," she said coldly.

  "Well, yes," Torrance said, thinking wildly of another reason for his call before continuing quickly. "But I was also wanting to ask how you and dad are doing? Are the labyrinth renovations going smoothly?"

  "Oh," his mother said, her demeanor changing instantly. "Well, of course, the renovations are going horribly." She always said that, regardless of how the renovations were coming along. His parents' labyrinth was in a constant state of alteration. It was getting to the point that even they were getting lost inside of it. Torrance was unsure if that made it an excellent labyrinth or a subpar labyrinth. What use was a labyrinth if the minotaurs themselves could not navigate its winding halls?

  "Ohhh... Sorry to hear that, mom," Torrance said in what he hoped was a consoling voice. "What's happening this time?"

  "It's the painters!" she said at once with a snort from her bull-like nostrils. "I told them that I wanted every single inch to be painted in Black Hole Black, but they painted everything in Mine Shaft Black! And they thought I wouldn't know the difference... nonsense! Anyone with eyes can tell the difference between Black Hole Black and Mine Shaft Black. They're as different as night and day!"

  Torrance had to disagree with this sentiment, but he did not voice it. He had never been good at distinguishing the subtle differences between paint colors. He assumed, rather than being as different as night and day, that Black Hole Black and Mine Shaft Black were more likely the difference between night and a few minutes later in the night.

  "Oh really, mom? What a mix up..."

  "It's an embarrassment is what it is! What if we were to have company over... What would they say?" she said, sounding almost hysterical. Aside from the occasional wayward adventurer, they had not had company to the labyrinth in living memory.

  "Yeah, that's a real shame. Mom, I wanted to ask you about - ,"

  "I think it's the werewolves we hired... They always cut corners."

  Torrance put his enormous bovine head into his hands and shook it, closing his eyes. He decided not to comment on his mother's insensitive remark about werewolves and go ahead and ask his question. "I need to ask you a quick question about frozen food."

  She sighed deeply. "What about it, dear?"

  "How long does, say, a One Minute Microwave Minotaur Meal last if it's been in a deep freeze?"

  "A One Minute Microwave Minotaur Meal?" she asked inquisitively.

  "Yes," he answered cautiously.

  "Honey, weren't those banned after all those minotaurs got food poisoning? They haven't even been sold in ten years..."

  "Huh..."

  "Why are you even considering eating something that old?"

  "Oh, I was just - ,"

  "Do you not have any food? Can you not get any food? Oh goodness... Are you having money problems? Are you depressed?"

  "Woah, wait, what? No. I just don't have any groceries and don't feel like going to buy any today,” Torrance said, hoping to de-escalate the situation before it got any worse.

  "Oh, alright," his mother said calmly. Torrance was frankly astonished that she had so readily accepted his reasoning. That is, until she continued speaking. "I was just under the impression that you were a fully grown adult minotaur. It seems to me that a fully grown, responsible adult minotaur would not have to waste their time wondering about things like this. It seems to me that - "

  "Oh did you hear that?" Torrance said frantically. "I think I hear someone knocking on my door. I've got to go, mom. Talk to you soon!"

  "You're not getting off of the phone with me this easily. I still have a lot of loud, angry parenting to do!"

  Torrance hung up the phone. He knew he would regret it later when it came time to talk to her on the phone again, but for now, he was relieved. There had, of course, been no one knocking on his door. He sunk into his couch and closed his eyes, trying to think of a solution for his hunger debacle without leaving his labyrinth.

>   He could hear the television continuing to play though the volume was so low he could only hear bits and pieces of the dialogue on-screen as he continued to lean his head back and rub his eyes.

  "Brand new...steaming hot... CHEESE... whole snake baked into the crust..."

  The minotaur's eyes snapped open. Whole snake baked into the crust? Surely he had misheard something... He sat up and reached out for the remote control sitting on his coffee table, and pressed the rewind button that controlled his cable box. He watched as a pizza commercial began to play backwards very fast. When it reached the beginning, he jabbed the play button and turned up the volume on his television.

  "Are YOU hungry? Are YOU a cryptid, monster, villain, or otherwise creepy critter that finds the enticing aroma of our brand new, steaming hot, cheese and topping laden pizza irresistible?"

  "Yes," Torrance said under his breath without even realizing he was doing so.

  "Hi, I'm Pop McPizza, founder and C.E.O. of Pop McPizza's Pizza Palace Incorporated," a grey haired centaur said as it ambled onto the screen approaching a steamy pizza pie on a polished wooden countertop. "I know what cryptids want from their pizzas. They want a hot, cheap, cheesy pizza delivered right to their door with any funky or filthy ingredient you can think of. Try it now with a whole snake baked right into the crust!"

  Torrance was salivating. Everything about the commercial made him absolutely certain that a Pop McPizza pizza from Pop McPizza's Pizza Palace Incorporated was the right choice for him. Well, aside from the snake baked into the crust... he had never understood the