The Beggars Waltz (98 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 3 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by NerfHerder <NerfHerder.at.comic.com> (View user info) at 2006-09-26 05:31:04 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
"I'm going to go tuck the kids in, honey," I said to my adoring, affectionate and extremely attractive wife.
"Don't tarry too long," she said in a come-hither tone that promptly got my motor running. "I've got a surprise for you when you get to bed after being such a good dad." She stood up from her comfortable chair and waltzed over to where I was standing, awe-struck at the sex goddess before me. Her breasts heaved with the anticipation of the ensuing passion and I heaved with them.
"Uh...yeah I'll do it as fast as I can," I said, already halfway up the stairs and halfway ready to start right there on the stairs.
As I got to the top, I made the decision to tuck my daughter in first, as if she kept me too long I could explain to her that her brother needed tucking in just as badly as she did and teach her not to be selfish.
As I opened her door, immediately her eyes darted open and the corners of her mouth turned up, revealing the straight, pearly white teeth I had paid graciously for. I wondered if she would finally thank me tonight for all the dental work.
"Tell me a story," she said in a tone that wasn't nearly sleepy or gracious enough.
"Okay," I said, "bringing my hand to my chin, full of stubble, to think as I often do. "One time there was a prince and a princess and they got married and there was a castle and they lived in it forever and ever and one time the prince fought a dragon that captured the princess and after that they were happy forever THE END! Goodnight, my darling," I said as I kissed my adoring daughter on the forehead.
"Daddy, you're funny," she said. "Tell me a real story."
"What do you mean by real," I asked. "I mean, one might imply that to be real, I would have to tell you a true story. And true stories aren't nearly as exciting... or short," I said under my breath, "as the one I just told you."
"And besides," I said, "Remember last night when you asked for two stories?"
"Yes..." my daughter said, fearing that the bottomless well of stories had somehow run dry because of her.
"Well I hope you enjoyed them because I'm all out. Gotta go," I said as I waltzed towards the door, begging to be relieved of my charge.
"Nuh uh! You're a funny daddy!" And I was. This innocent realization of my daughter inspired me. I told a harrowing tale of 4 minutes about talking emus and kangaroos, who used their pouches and sharp beaks to defeat the evil snakes and sloths, who were keeping prisoner all the fairies of the Earth in a peanut butter jar. It was quite good. To a 4-year-old at least. It was boring as hell to me. But lo and behold, before the final death scene of the final sloth, my little angel was asleep and I was one step closer to having sexual intercourse.
Hoping my son would already be asleep, I tiptoed past his room in an effort not to wake him.
"Dad," his timid voice temporarily drowned out the Barry Manilow record coming from the master bedroom. I could've ran for it. I could've made it, probably. But my duty to my son, my own flesh and blood, carrier of the family blood, was a duty that I did not take lightly.
I opened the door and peaked inside.
"Yes, son? What is it?"
"I think I saw a monster in my room. Can you check under my bed and make sure nothing is there?"
I chuckled. Of course I could check under his bed. Sure, I might be frightened by the immense mess accumulated down there but my bed was no different when I was his age. I was certain that there would be no monster down there. I would assure my son and then I could get down to business.
I stepped into my son's room, feeling the fresh carpeting between my toes, and dropped to my hands and knees to look under the bed. I looked around and saw a few baseball cards, a tennis racket that hadn't been used more than twice and a few compact discs among other harmless objects. Nothing out of the ordinary and certainly no monster.
As I was raising my head up on the level to meet with my son and tell him the good news, he screamed:
"AAAAAAH! THE MONSTER!"
I swiveled my head and my eyes left and right to try and catch a glimpse of the beast but apparently my son's eyes were better than my own.
"There's no monster under the bed, Chris," I said, stroking the boy's golden blond hair in an attempt to comfort him. "I just checked. There's nothing down there. I promise." I held my right hand up to justify my word.
"No, I know," Chris said fervently, "because I just saw him run out from under the bed when you started to look. He's in the closet now."
"Don't be alarmed," I said, imitating a superhero as best I could, "SuperDad is on the job!" I raised one knee up and jockeyed my arms for maximum comic effect. But the boy didn't take to my humor on this occasion. I dismantled myself from the pose and waltzed towards the closet door, which was open just a crack.
Chris' closet was huge. We had built the whole house with gigantic closets, as my wife and I were both something of pack rats and liked to store most of our useless crap in closets. We hoped we wouldn't pass on this trait to our children but prepared for the inevitability.
I opened up the closet, stepped inside and turned on the light. There certainly didn't appear to be any monster...
...and then I saw it.
In the back corner, attempting to hide behind the boy's 3-foot tall clothes hamper, was a 5-foot tall green monster with 13 eyes and six arms. A slimy, mucusy flesh covered its entire body and appeared to ooze from the top of its head and slide down the rest of the monster's body. I could barely make out two slits through the ooze that were high on what appeared to be the monster's head, glowing red and resembling eyes but I couldn't be sure.
I could hardly believe it. I opened my mouth to scream but one of its arms clamped over my mouth.
From where it spoke, I have no idea. But it did so in a threatening manner.
"Keep quiet, pops. If you know what's good for you you'll keep your mouth shut. You have no idea what these nine arms can do."
"Nine arms," I asked, "but I only see six."
"Exactly," the monster said, "you won't even see the others coming then, will you? Best to shut the hell up and do as I say or you'll find out exactly what all of my arms are for."
"What do you want?" I demanded from the monster, using a much harsher tone than I expected of myself.
The monster let out a guffaw.
"I think it's clear what I want, Mr. Frederickson," the monster said. "I want your son."
"W-what are you talking about," I said, "what could you possibly want with my son?"
"The ancient race of the monster is dying," said the monster. "And you play a much more important part than you may realize. You see, the race of the monsters has always depended on the Frederickson line to provide us with one son a generation so that we may feast on his flesh and blood."
I thought for a moment, recalling my own childhood and remembered nothing about monsters taking away any of my brothers.
"What about last generation?" I asked, wondering exactly who had been killed without me noticing.
"Uh..." the monster searched his brain, in what looked like an attempt to make up a name. "Definitely started with a J."
I gasped in horror. "Sure...surely you don't mean Jeffery?" I shook at the mere mention of the name.
"YES!" the monster exclaimed. "He was delicious. I especially liked his eyeballs."
I folded my arms and looked the monster in the eye(s).
"My name is Jeffery you fool. You didn't kill me. You didn't kill anybody in my family."
"Yes huh," the monster said, obviously defeated. "I totally did and his blood was potent and we feasted for days. Okay, look. We don't really kill anyone anymore. It's a union thing. I just want to scare your son. That's all."
"There's no way I'm letting you scare my son, you son of a bitch!" I took a swing at the monster, hitting one of its 13 eyes, which didn't even blink.
"Please don't do that again," the monster said. " I'm scaring your son whether you like it or not."
I punched the monster again, convinced that I could protect my son with fists of fury.
The monster looked more annoying than disgruntled.
"Look, it's not like I'm going to frighten your son without giving you anything in return. I mean, this can be a win-win situation here."
I wondered what the monster could possibly offer me in exchange for the temporary well-being of my only son. "What could you possibly offer me in exchange for the temporary well-being of my only son?" I asked.
"First of all," the monster said, "you humans have no trouble creating new copies of yourself. He's your only son now, but last I checked your wife was ready to have sexual intercourse right away. You could make another son tonight and then take the reward I'm giving you. Everybody's happy, everybody walks away with something."
"...I'm listening," I said tentatively, cupping my hand to my ear to heighten my listening skills.
Lo and behold, Chris had been shaking with fear ever since his dad had gone in the closet and not come out right away. Chris feared the worst but was shaking too badly to attempt to save his own father were he in moral peril.
After five minutes had passed, Chris had had enough. His father could be in danger. He was the only one who could save him. He gathered up the tennis racket laying under his bed and marched over to the door. Just as he was about to swing the door open, his father opened the door, stepping inside Chris' room and shut the door immediately.
"Sorry I was in there for so long," Chris' dad said. "But, um, listen, there's no monster in there."
"Then why were you in there for so long, dad? I thought I heard voices."
The father already had his hand on the doorknob to the hallway, placed one foot outside and then turned back to answer his loving and only son's question.
"Sleep tight, son."
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