A Man for Marilyn
By Pheo
This is just some silliness I wrote for a relative… I'm advertising fics for gifts and honestly, for some creative practice, and this was my first request.
Lillian Munster waved the cobwebs away from her computer as she sat down to check her email.
"Shriek!" screamed her monitor as the start-up screen brightened into focus. She smiled lovingly at her background, a series of photos of her husband, Herman, her son, Eddie, and a few dead stuffed pets.
Logging on, she noticed that dinner was starting to escape from the cauldron. The dragon leg was jumping idly at an awkward angle from inside the steaming black pot. Rushing over, lifting her ghoulish skirts, she grabbed a nearby broom, shook a stray scorpion off the handle—an hors d' oeuvre!— and started whacking the dark green limb back into the pot, sending a few flaky scales across the kitchen floor.
"There," she said, satisfied, flipping her long black-and-white hair, which sparkled with the scent of her new Banshee Vixen shampoo.
Sipping her frosted eye of newt latte, she read through a few boring emails from mothers at Eddie's school (really, who cared about pot roast recipes or sales at the designer clothing store?), a notice that her cell phone bill was coming up (maybe if Herman would stop wasting so many minutes videotaping his bats in various poses and sending them in to America's Funniest Home Videos the bill wouldn't be so high), and a few newsletters she had subscribed to (Corpse Weekly, The Graveyard Gazette, Frankenstein Bride Times).
Marilyn had sent her a photo from her latest trip to the beach, where she was standing with some awful-looking man with a bronze tan, straight white teeth, a muscled bare chest, and sunglasses. He looked like one of those poor life guards or male models, destined to walk the earth with their hideous ugliness.
Lillian shivered. What an ugly creature! Granted, Marilyn wasn't all that great-looking herself, she thought, which was a real pity; but she didn't need to stoop to such a level to get a man. If only she could find someone she could really marry.
She deleted the photo quickly. It gave her the willies.
She saw that Grandpa had forwarded her a survey (probably from his MySpace page; he got over a million visits each month, after all). Smiling at his answers, she decided to fill it out herself and forward it on to her family:
"About You
Eye Color: witch hazel
Hair Color: midnight and fog puffs
Height: average ghoul size
Favorite Color: black and white
Screen Name: witchywoman512
Favorite Band: Vlad Victor and the Undead
Favorite Movie: Bride of Frankenstein
Favorite Show: The Addams Family"
Lily paused. That Morticia Addams was one lovely homemaker, she thought. If only she had just a bit more fashion sense. She returned to the quiz.
"Can You…
Write with both hands? I can write with my own hands, as well as any severed ones that I come across.
Whistle? Yes, I have to whistle to call the toads in at night.
Blow a bubble? I can blow an exceptionally large bubble with goblin gum.
Roll your tongue? Yes, and it's quite helpful when a maggot is trying to escape at snack time.
Cross your eyes? Naturally.
Dance? Oh, yes. Herman and I love to do the Jitter Beast, the Vampire Twist, and the Mummy Mambo.
Speak another language? Every Munster can speak at least twelve languages. I'm quite fluent in Squid, Banshee-ese, Poltergeist, and Werewolf.
Cook well? Of course!"
Lily shook her head as she sent the survey to her family and friends. These things were rather silly, but they were also quite fun.
Munching on a spider scone, she deleted a few junk mail messages ("Enlarge your fangs!" and "Make money and never leave the graveyard!" and "You've won the undead lotto!"). She paused over one that read "Meet the match of your dreams!"
Well, Lily herself had already met the match of her dreams—and I'm the envy of every woman on earth, she thought dreamily as she pictured her box-headed, bolt-studded greenish husband. But Marilyn could certainly use a nice man!
She logged onto the website and began creating a profile for her dear niece.
Lillian smiled. This was exactly what Marilyn needed.
to be continued…