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Fan Fiction

Will the Real Monster Please Stand Up

By Paul Pinsdorf (

I think I'm gonna die. I can't quit now; I'm nearly finished. These daily exercises really take a toll on my body. It is a brisk Friday afternoon in October and I am spending a few days at my getaway house in upstate N.Y. But before I can enjoy the rest of the weekend, I must finish running my makeshift obstacle course which is about three miles long. It consists of climbing over walls, crawling under razor sharp barbwire fences, and jumping over water filled holes. Throughout the rest of the course are miscellaneous challenges that sporadically changed by the caretaker Charlie Smith. Charlie is a World War Two veteran who takes pride in his ingenious stumpers. Today his new addition was oil on the rope ladder. Last summer it was a batch of poison ivy under the uneven bars. This doesn't get any easier, although my time keeps improving. Now I'm closing on the end, I run full speed as I approach the last water pit. As I close in, I could notice the rope was greased up so I decide to cross the hole in a different method. Not slowing my pace, I dive across the pit, tuck and roll, come back up into my sprint to cross the finish line. I check my time. Not bad, I just beat my record by a second. For the next twenty minutes I stretch my sore and aching muscles. I then conclude my workout with some meditation. As I meditate, my mind clears and my body relaxes. This peaceful bliss ends by wet rough strokes across my face. Stormy is licking me. Stormy is my faithful companion who is a full sized well-trained watch/attack German Shepherd. We playfully walk up to our home away from home. Once inside, I take a nice hot shower and make us a hardy dinner. Two thick and juicy steaks, cooked medium rare, hit the spot. I let Stormy out before retreating to the upstairs TV room. I pop a movie into the VCR and sprawl out on my comfortable easy chair. On the TV screen appears "The Bride of Frankenstein." I always have been a horror film buff. I must have seen everyone ever made over the course of my life. The Bride isn't actually my favorite Frankenstein movie, "The Son of Frankenstein" is, but it contains the most moving scene ever in a monster flick. The monster stumbles across a cottage in the woods. Residing there is a blind old man playing a violin. The lonely man immediately excepts the monster into his home and takes him as his new found friend. It took a blind man to "see" the goodness in the outwardly appearing monster. As the movie progresses, my attention is diverted to security TV screen. The camera caputures the image of a man walking up the main road to the house. I sit up and look closely at the face of my uninvited visitor, I never seen him before in my life. Since I wasn't expecting anyone, this could very well mean trouble. I carefully watch the actions of the stranger. He walks off the main road and enters the winding path that goes in and out of the woods. This is definitely peculiar, why didn't he just walk up the main road to the front entrance? He obviously isn't making his visit a surprise, or he whouldn't have taken the main road in the first place. My heart rate skipped a beat when I realized that I took the same path when coming here this morning. I had to retrieve my spare key inside an old black boot from the utility shed. Just like I did this morning, the stranger enters the shed and comes back out a moment later- with the old black boot in his hand. Now my initial concern becomes worry. I move closer to the screen and focus the camera on his face. I examine his features. Long red hair with a thick beard to match. He looks like a biker. He even looks... my thoughts freeze as I look at his nose. He's sniffing. Like a dog. I don't believe this; he's tracking my scent. Well he won't be doing much of anything once he passes Stormy's house. I switch to the rear camera to zoom in on the action. I see Stormy's little home that Charlie and I built last summer. But I don't see Stormy. I narrow in on the entrance of the doghouse. I see Stormy huddled in the rear corner, trembling. I leave the upstairs den and quickly enter the master bedroom. I pull out a suitcase from underneath the king size bed and open it by key and combination lock. The continents: my costume. Without hesitation, I put the tailored made uniform on my well-toned body. Now all I need is my weapons. My weapons are in my jeep, at Charlie's house. Way up the road. Good thing Charlie is out for the day, because this beast-man probably tracked my scent to his house. From New York City? Well, I come out on top before without any conventional weaponry so today doesn't have to be any different. Let's see, after I played with Stormy, I came through the front door. So that's where the visitor will enter. As I entered the living room I could see a shadow pass the window. The heavy wooden door is bolted so without any power tools this guy will have to enter probably through one of the windows. There is where he'll have the surprise of his life. The only sound on the other side of the door is low growl. Stormy is that you? I wonder to myself. It can't be I'd know his growl anywhere. This growl isn't even that of a dog. Why it's a... Before I could finish my thought, the door is split wide open; pieces of wood spray the living room. Instinctually I dive for cover. After quickly regaining my composure, I look to where a solid pinewood door used to be. For a split second I expected to see the police with their door-smashing device. No such luck. Instead stood at the height of about eight feet was a cross between a extremely large man and the only animal that I know that growls like this thing is doing now- a wolf. As my eyes met the glare of the beast, it lunged at me. Actually, at my throat. Instinctually, I ducked under its razor sharp claws and executed a blow to the creature's mid-section. No impact. The beast swung its hairy arm at me in a backhand fashion knocking me across the room. I land on an end table smashing it and the lamp that formerly resided on it. I assume a crouching position, waiting for the next attack. Again, the monster lunged at me. I fell back while grabbing its arms and using my legs to elevate its body. By using it's momentum I judo tossed the beast against the brick fireplace. "Your fancy moves won't work against me." Maybe I was hit harder than I thought, but I think this thing just spoke. I began to circle around the coach in the same fashion I did as a child to avoid my mother wielding a wooden spoon. Hand to hand combat is not working out to well. I better start to come up with something fast. Since I have no weapons on my person, I need to create some. I notice a glare coming from the floor, an ashtray. Perfect. I pick it up and hurl at the face of the creature. The beast screamed like a man. I hurt it. I just received a boost of confidence. The werewolf then picks up the couch above its head. Maybe a little confidence. Then it throws it at me. I dive out of the path of the hurling object and tuck and roll up into my fighting stance. I back petal to the fireplace and grab the copper statue off the mantle. This is my last chance. I have no place to run or have anything to block the man-wolf's path. I ready myself for what comes next. Slowly the creature closes in thinking I'm trapped. As it neared I could see the sharpness of its teeth and smell the putrid odor emanating from its mouth. Like the previous attacks, it came at me straight forward grasping for my throat. As I sidestepped the attack, I drove the statue across its left temple. Hard. The beast was staggered, but not by much. Before I knew what was happening, I was lifted up, like the couch and then slammed down to the floor. The wind was knocked from my lungs. I could feel my right arm broken as well as a couple of ribs. The monster stood lurching over me. With the last bit of my strength I swung my left leg across its face. No effect. It took hold of my neck with its large hairy left hand. I could feel the claws pressing against my skin. Why doesn't it kill me? Then it answers my question. "You see Bullseye, I unlike you am not an assassin. So I won't kill you, as much as I want to. You murdered Casey Cronin attorney at law. He may have been just another contract for you, but to me he was my best friend. I'm going to leave you for the authorities to deal with. My name is Jack Russell but I am better known as the Werewolf by Night. Remember this I might look like a monster but you are one." On that note, he turned and left. I sure hope I could watch my horror films in the prison infirmary.


Daredevil (and other related characters appearing) and the distinctive likenesses are Trademarks of Marvel Characters, Inc. and are used WITHOUT permission.
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