November 1, 2012
My Memories of Frankenstein
Baron Frankenstein was a lonely boy. Part of the problem was due to his name. Many people think his first name was something normal, like Victor or Fritz, or Flo Rida, but they are wrong. Baron Frankenstein’s first name was actually Baron. (Therefore, when he grew up and inherited his title, he became Baron Baron Frankenstein. Think of it this way: it is as if Queen Elizabeth named her son Prince instead of Meathead.) Think this is too farfetched? Think again. None other than 21st Century carnival barker Donald Trump named his son Baron. Tru dat. Look it up.
Li’l Baron (Barry for short) Frankenstein had no friends. You’d think being rich and having every toy in the Barony would be enough to ensure friends, but no, it was not. Baron Frankenstein’s father, Baron Frankenstein (and this time that’s his title, not his name- see how confusing this can be?) ordered every child in the land to attend his son’s birthday parties – and they did- but he could not force them to like his son.
You see, Li’l Baron Frankenstein was a total snot, a typical whiny rich brat who would never share his toys and, to be honest, smelled a lot like the pig sty. So one the one hand he was rich, but on the other hand he was selfish. On the one hand he had every toy in the world, on the other hand he had the hygiene of Balls Mahoney.
Unable to buy a friend, and with no other recourse, the snotty Baron pledged to build his very own best friend.
His very first attempt was a cross between a chicken and his nanny and it was an utter failure.
Upon hitting puberty, the young Baron was ready to make his second attempt- a cross between his new nanny and the busty chambermaid. This went nowhere but the Baron did entice them to pose for some interesting photographs.
Eventually, the friendless Baron grew and after his father died he became a friendless Baron. (See how silly that double-meaning name is? Grr.) He had no family, no wife, his dog ran away, etc etc etc. He soon realized that the only way for him to have a friend was to start off fresh with a clean slate. He spruced himself up, cleaned off that stench that clung to him, and opened wide his castle gates for the most lavish party anyone had ever seen, earning his the good graces of his countrymen forever.
Of course he didn’t, that would be stupid. He did the logical thing- he robbed some graves and stitched together several corpses to make a single male body more lithe and muscular than you’d expect from a totally heterosexual man.
Though I did point out that he was very lonely.
Well, after that it was the same old story. Man builds man out of dead men, living dead man rebuffs man’s advances, man sulks, living dead man moves out and into his own condo.
The moral of the story is that not only can you not buy love, you cannot build a living dead man out of the corpses of many dead man and expect it to like you.
So what happened to Baron Frankenstein?
The question is Imponderable.
HA HA, couldn’t help myself (a little inside joke there, click on the Imponderable link above, plug plug.)
Seriously, Baron Frankenstein one day did find love, albeit with a frog named Jessup who claimed to be an enchanted prince.
The undead creation of the Baron lives to this day, though he now goes by the name of Ben Bernanke.
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