Monster hates fire

Did I mention that I re-read Frankenstein this fall? I appreciated it a lot more this time around than I did at age 14. Having read Shelley's novel, I naturally had to see James Whale's 1931 movie by the same name. And that kicked off a Frankenstein obsession... I rented Bride of Frankenstein (fabulous!) and Young Frankenstein (dated, but Gene Wilder is still pretty funny). I coaxed friends to the dreadful Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (why, Kenneth, why?!), and then, redeeming myself, to the quite worthwhile Gods and Monsters.

My mind skips back to the original Frankenstein movie now, to the scene in which the monster swats at the fiery torches. "Uhhhn! Uhhhn!" Yeah, that's me with my writing deadlines pressing in. Monster wants sunlight. Monster hates fire.

Cello actually likes a good fire now and again, especially if it involves marshmallows and chocolate. Not that she could tell you much about such pleasures, since, long separated from her blog, her words have all dried up.

Try, Monster. (Try, Cello.) "BLAAAHHHHG. GOOOOD."

Throw the switch with fingers crossed: "It's alive!! It's alive!!"