Bobby Mahogany
A suave little sprite, Bobby Mahogany lives in furniture stores and whispers suggestively into ladies’ ears: “oh… that chest of drawers would look adorable in your bedroom” or “come on my sweet, you’ve only been here an hour, why not look at all the chests of drawers again?” or “of course a lady can never have too many chests of drawers”.
But a lady can have too many chests of drawers. He’s evil. Pure evil.
The Very Slender Man
The myth of The Slender Man is quite well known by now. He is a long man with the power to appear unrealistic in old photographs. And now sightings are trickling in of this, the Very Slender Man, who is, apparently, a bit slenderer and even less realistic.
I am unconvinced as to the veracity of these sightings. I think he’s on stilts, and I’m pretty sure those are just long, empty sleeves with gloves stitched to the end of them. Fair enough, his face does appear to be entirely made of mouth, but he could have carved that hole into his head using a spoon or something. Yeah, I’m not buying it.
The Dread Cuthulu
Every time somebody spells “Cthulhu” wrong on the internet, they get closer to calling his slightly less impressive, differently-spelled cousin to this Earthly realm. He’s damp, 5 foot two and smells of seaweed and regret. Unlike his monstrous cousin, he is not covered in tentacles. That’s not what those are.
The Ravenous Amorph
Look, you’d better do what he suggests and give this a like, because I think he means it. It must have taken him ages to write that sign with those tentacles. What? No, I didn’t write the sign. I admit the writing looks like mine but that’s because I used my tentacles to write it.
The Hash Brownie
“Riddle me these questions three,
Woah, I am fucking toasted, me
What was I..? Did I say the bit
about the questions? Lemme take a hit
While I think…
…I think
…OK, all right
Did I ask you the questions? And did you get them right?
Well shit! Nice work! Be on your journey
Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Does that word sound funny?”
The Flaming Selfie
This jolly jasper is a rum old conundrum. He appears to be as happy as Larry, constantly photographing himself grinning like a Cheshire beachball, as though his life literally couldn’t be any better. Don’t follow him on Facebook, unless you want your life to feel empty and joyless in comparison. Oh, feeling “blessed” again are you? How lovely!
But… his head is on fire. There’s flames coming off his face. That’s got to hurt hasn’t it?
I hope it does. I hope it absolutely knacks and that he cries himself to sleep every night, in the vain hope that the tears will dampen the flames, but they won’t, and the tears are really salty so it stings even more. Stupid happy-looking clot.
Or, look, maybe he’s an inspirational lesson to us all, smiling through his adversity. So brave!
Nah.
MerBear
Imagine this is a thing that exists. Now imagine what the consequences of that might be. Haha that’s pretty funny!
Now imagine you get bitten by one on a full moon. Imagine that turns you into a WereMerBear. Now imagine what the consequences of that might be. Haha ah dear, priceless! See? This shit more or less writes itself.
The Abominable Man
Look at that haircut. I mean, just look at it. I don’t care how tall you are (three stories) or how often you clamber down from your home in the mountains to devour a whole town full of people once a year (quite often) or how likely you are to actually exist (???), that haircut is the worst. I bet you’ve got two arms full of ill-conceived tattoos under that rank, probably moustache-waxed, fur haven’t you? And I bet you take two hours to make an eminently Instagrammable £7 cup of coffee in some trendy cafe up in those mountains don’t you? Fucking hell, your whole body is made of beard! You abominable man.
Bristle-Backed Flob
Vampires these days are generally portrayed as sensitive, brooding men with sparkly skin and very little pubic hair, which is not bad going for what is essentially a horrifying six-foot leech with legs, who smells of black pudding, Brylcreem and scabs.
So now a lot of monsters have tried to rehabilitate their image in the same way. This sweaty cretin has given himself a makeover and thinks he looks suave, not realising that you can paint one eyebrow raised on your mask but that doesn’t make you David Niven.
The Furry Perdling
If you have lost something, and you say this simple rhyme: “O Perdling, O Perdling, Come and help me find this thing”, then up to seven days later the Furry Perdling will email you a series of questions like where did you see it last?, or is it in your pocket?
Five days after that it will appear and point somewhere the item definitely isn’t, to help you eliminate that area from your enquiries. Then it will eat its way into your face and lay its eggs in your brain. Basically don’t say the rhyme, is what I’m getting at.
Ramshackle Charm 