So Much Cooler Than Dracula, and Other Monster Aca

Max: The High Expectations of Yeti-hood | August 3, 2010

   It’s not so bad to be an outcast, you know. It gives you time to observe. I bet I’m the expert of all things monster, and they all don’t know I exist. That’s irony, folks.    Yes, you read that correctly. I’m a Yeti, and I know what irony is. So that’s a little unusual. I’m also a vegetarian. That’s a little unusual too. Okay, maybe a lot.    Everyone sees a Yeti and thinks that we’re dumb bullies. That’s a stereotype, people. Maybe it’s a tiny, mini, too-small-to-see, little bit accurate. But it’s still a stereotype! And it’s not accurate in every case. At least, it’s not accurate in mine.    My dad is the king of all Yeti’s. Wait, this is the 21st century. So I guess he’s the CEO of all Yeti’s. He runs all the council meetings and wrestling matches, that sort of thing. He thinks his only son is going to grow up to be the meanest, toughest guy since Bigfoot. That’s a lot of pressure to put on a 15-year-old! Especially when I don’t want to live up to his expectations.    Don’t get me wrong: I love my dad. But he wants me to make him proud and be a brainless killer. That’s just not me. I’ve only ever gotten a B in my life, and that was in gym. The one class Yeti supposed to ace. I have skill like that. I’ve also never eaten meat in my life.    But don’t worry, I’ve perfected the delicate art of feed-it-to-the-human-when-my-parents-aren’t-looking. Our human, Rover, is always gobbling up table scraps. I haven’t the heart to tell him what kind of meat is in the chile. Ignorance is probably bliss, in this case.    At my old school (Mt. Everest Cavern Academy) I just bribed the Headmaster to lower my academic grades on my report card, while inching up my physical education one by a few (hundred) points. I still don’t think he’s realized it was monopoly money.    Like I said, my brains are pretty rare among Yeti.    But at my new school, the headmaster is a ghost. And he’s been around for a while. He’s probably going to know what real money looks like. And anyway, what’s a ghost gunna do with money? It’s not like they can touch it.    Wow. So, basically, I now have the unbribable headmaster. Want’s nothing, needs nothing, can literally use nothing. I’m screwed.

    But I’ll have to think of some way to fix those grades. I’m a proud honor roll, vegetarian Yeti. Who’s kind of still in the closet with it. My dad scares me. So shoot me.

    Maybe someday I’ll tell him. But until then, it’s a new day. And it’s time to be fake-tough. Just like WWE!                                                                                                                               -Max Summit

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4 Comments »

  1. You put so much vision in something that isn’t real at all… you have a great imagination, I think this is really funny, keep it up!

    Comment by The Lonely god — August 5, 2010 @ 3:21 am

  2. Thank you so much! I didn’t get a chance to post today, but I’ll be introducing a new character tomorrow!

    Comment by Cindy "Undead" Snyder: Techie for Monsters — August 5, 2010 @ 5:26 am

  3. I’m looking to add a few blogs to my blogroll. Would you like me to add yours?

    Comment by Cindy "Undead" Snyder: Techie for Monsters — August 5, 2010 @ 6:32 pm

  4. Sure, I wouldn’t mind, of course. I’ll add yours as well. I think the world needs more fiction blogs.

    Comment by The Lonely god — August 5, 2010 @ 7:10 pm


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About author

Being the tech squad director at my new boarding school sounded like such a good idea at the time. I just wish someone had told me it was a school for monsters! And trust me, these aren't the dashing Cullens and happy werewolves you'd expect. These are the real deal. So now I'm stuck managing the blogs of my peers: a sarcastic vampire, a cocky werewolf, a socially awkward Yeti, and a perpetually whinny banshee. But I don't need to tell you. Just read there blogs. At least it will be a good laugh. And then afterwords, please, please, please, someone out there: Get me out of here. I wan't OUT! HELP!

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