Clustr Maps
Take the Monster into your very home
The Monster Travels
From time to time, these slimy walls and the putrescence of the habitual overwhelms--the salt leaches through and misery is all-too-commonplace. When the spring arrives and all creatures crave the light, eschew the pollen, submit to tawdry gawking, incessant woolgathering, shameless rutting, obsessive cleaning (for the truly perverse) and so forth, the Monster generally slithers gladly from his familiar haunts, packs his small larvae and the Queen in a convenient (albeit expensive) metallic box and shuttles said souls (?) to some obscure destination (for now, a tropic isle (an excuse for voodoo or its functional equivalent; at some later date, after further service in the salt mine, in the misty mountains of Moorish Southern Spain and North Africa) for enforced relaxation, supine observation, watery exercise and, above all, rapacious feeding to satiate and maintain some form of balance (twisted, though it may be).
There are shadows in every locale, of course, behind which we shall lurk: my two fine spawn-the Greebler and the newest, the Grunion (not to be confused with the pathetic, doomed fish--no: it's an old family name), myself, my lovely bride (the Queen, in all her unique form of glory) and, in this instance, one of the elder clan (ask further questions at your peril).
In the event that we are able to surface in daylight and satiate our baleful desires, I intend to document our excursion, but please excuse my neglect in the event the world as you know it slowly slips from our consciousness for this brief period as we are wrapt in our communion with old friends and new and the ground upon which we expect to stomp pitilessly.
For now, I bid you adieu.