Progress Report on Monster Hunt


I have returned from my journey in distant lands and since I’ve been back, I’ve identified the monster. With some assistance, I’ve also found how it enters my home every night.

English: The Sando aqua monster was a massive ...

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Was it a small goat? A raccoon? A beaver? Sadly, the truth is much more boring than I expected. It seems to be a mouse or possibly mice and the hole in my wall (which was hidden behind the heating vent) is now patched up with some kind of foam. I’m told it will soon be eaten through as well, but in two weeks, the Pest Controller will stop by with better foam. This kind can also be eaten, but is more poisonous. I do not like poisoning things, but this thing is keeping me awake at night and sleep deprivation can be deadly, so the poison foam will be used for self defense.


Murdersocks: Chapter 1: In which the Socks demonstrate their murderishness.

As I was saying, the murderous Murdersocks were now on my feet.  I was overwhelmed by a feeling of murderous murderosity.
However, the thing that stuck out most in my mind was that they were very comfortable.  I wish I could find a non-evil variety of this quality, because while I thought (at the time) that murder was a fair price to pay for such comfortable socks, it probably isn’t for everyone.  I think the murder victims especially wished I had chosen a different pair.  But, as you know, I had no choice in the matter.  I wore the Murdersocks because the Murdersocks wore me.
But, now that I think of it, who is this me that wears and is worn by the Socks?  You don’t know because I haven’t introduced myself  yet!
My name is Jephrold Gratchfield McNerrister diFlansworth-Smythe, but most just call me Baker. My family has lived in this peaceful and unmurderous town for eleven generations and for six of those generations, we’ve been running this very bakery.
Now that you know who I am, we can move on to the terrible thing that happened next.
The first customer on that fateful and murderous day (not counting the porkulent child who brought the socks and was now part of them) was a thin man of about thirty-eight.  He had sad eyes and a cheerful hat that made me think of a clown.
I asked him if he was a clown and he was very offended.  The hat was a family heirloom, he said, and furthermore his mother had died in a clown-related accident.  He had hoped he would never again to be reminded of those jokesty jesters of tragedy.
What he did want from me was a loaf of rye bread.  Rye bread was something I had made that morning (as I do every morning) and I would have happily sold it to him.  I would have if not for the Socks.
The Murdersocks had already made the decision to murder him instead.  That unearthly glow of murderosity that they emit when they are thirsty was shining like a happy baby (who is a murderer) and I was gripped by uncertainty.
How would I possibly make this customer AND the Murdersocks happy at once?
I had no time to worry further for there was a sudden flash*.  A flash of murderousness.
And before I could catch my breath to ask myself what had happened, the thin man with the sad eyes and cheerful hat was no more.
He had become something else, a horrific lump of murderedness, much like jello, but less appetizing.  Unless you are a Murdersock.**
*I would not learn exactly what had occurred during that flash of murderous non-light until a fortnight later, when it came to me in a dream, which is the subject of Chapter 4 of this book.
**I suppose the reaction of a Murdersock to it would be much the same as to jello, but that assumes that Murdersocks like jello, which I don’t know.  All that can be said of them for sure is that they like murder.

The Further Story of Ed

Once, some time ago, there was an Ed.  In this world, there have previously been two billion Eds and there are at least 191,023 Eds alive today.  Ed never was and still isn’t a rare name, but no two Eds are exactly alike.  Hypothetically, identical twin Eds could be nearly alike, but not many parents would give two siblings the same name, even if they weren’t twins.  It would be too confusing.  I guess there may be some parents out there that would consider it for the convenience of only having to yell one name when asking all their children to do something, but even then, the many disadvantages would probably outway that bit of usefulness and drive those parents to change their minds.
None of that really matters here because this specific Ed had no siblings or even parents with any names at all.  Ed’s family lacked not only names, but any presence at all in the world.  To the best of Ed’s knowledge, he had sprouted from the ground.  In truth, he had, but he had also once had parents before they buried him.  Not knowing this vital piece of his history, the real question: ‘why had they buried him’ had never occurred to Ed.
Ed mostly concerned himself with one thing, and he concerned himself with it very well.  Baking pies on the Moon was that one thing.  It is a well established fact that any baked good made on the moon will be superior than that same baked good made somewhere else.  The weak gravity, lack of substantial atmosphere, and general wholesomeness of the Moon were mysteriously and miraculously just the right thing for all manner of breads, biscuits, cakes, pastries, and pies, but for some strange reason, not muffins.  The leading researchers in Muffin Science have yet to suggest a better explanation than “The Moon just doesn’t like muffins”, which, if true, raises further questions that are much more potentially important, but also much harder to think about.  Neither the harder question nor the simpler one made any difference to Ed.  Ed baked pies.
As we have established, Ed’s pies were of the highest calibre of piemanship, even for the Moon.  His best-selling creation was composed whatever ingredients were most luminescent on the day it was made.  No one ever complained that Ed’s Glowy Pie was less than The Best Food Ever despite it never being the same twice.  They ordered it from as far away as Titan and saw the high shipping costs from The Moon as well worth it.  Glowy Pie was that good.  Also, its fans had too much money.