Entries tagged ‘writers’

Our First Frankencontest!

February 18th, 2010 by Dr. Frankenstory

Guten Abend!

Welcome friends, both new and old, to ‘The Frankenlab’, the place where I, Doctor Victor Emelius Frankenstory, showcase the finest contributions to Frankenstory.com (the story writing game where two freakishly misshapen heads are better than one).

This week sees much excitement in store for the Frankenstory crew as we leave depart from our secret underground lab  in wintery Geneva, bound for the hustle and bustle of old London Town. Our destination is ‘The Story’, a one-day conference which seeks to unite wordsmiths, raconteurs, fable-tellers,  imagineers, plot-pushers, chronicle-junkies and ragtag vagabonds from the narrative super-highway, all looking to celebrate the joy of a tale well told.

As this is our maiden voyage to good old Blighty (and the first time my hunchback butler Igor has ventured overseas since his disastrous appearance on ‘Transylvania’s got Talent’), we’ve decided to celebrate the occasion with our first ever Frankenstory competition.

That’s right, over the coming months we’ll be challenging our Frankenfans to blow our stinky little socks off with their literary creations for the chance to win a very special prize. To enter, you must  submit a completed story to the Frankenstory website by simply logging on to Frankenstory.com, following the instructions and badgering a friend into becoming the story-writing sidekick to your narrative superhero.

“But Dr. Frankenstory” I hear you cry “pray tell, just what is this fabulous prize with which you tantalise us so?”

Well, meinen freunden, we’ve convinced Mademoiselles Lady and Small to lovingly hand craft a unique piece of Frankenstory memorabilia for our lucky winners. Assembled from authentic bits and bobs from our very own secret laboratory, it promises to be part beast, part marvel and 100% bonkers (and we can’t guarantee that it won’t gnaw your fingers off either). You can’t buy this in the shops (in fact we’re not even sure we’ll get it through customs!) so you can rest assured you’ll have a one-of-a-kind creation to scare the grandkids with.

So there it is, Frankenfans, your chance to become part of Frankenstory history as our first ever competition winner!

Remember to follow me @frankenstory on Twitter where I’ll be documenting our thoughts and experiences  of ‘The Story’ and if you happen be at the conference and you  spot a dashing silver-haired scientific genius and a butler who looks like a haemorrhoid, do come over and say guten tag.

Anyway, must dash – there’s an Easyjet from Geneva with our name on it and Igor’s itching to add to his sick-bag collection.

See you at ‘The Story’

Internationally yours,

Dr. Victor E Frankenstory

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Sketchy as Hell

January 24th, 2010 by Dr. Frankenstory

Hallo meine wunderbare Frankenfans!

Ever had a mental image burned into your brain that you really wished you could get rid of but, try as you might, the Gott verdammt thing just can’t be shifted? We’ll I certainly have and it is a scene of unimaginable horror that all began the night Igor skipped our weekly poker night.

Me and Elsie (my faithful Rottweiler) were seated, as usual, around the Frankenlab’s fold-up dining table, waiting for our weekly Wednesday night ‘Transylvania Hold’em’ session to begin. Suddenly the dining room door opens and in bursts Igor, my trusty hunchback right-hand-man. But instead of the crate of beer and mountain of potato chips he usually brings to the party, he turns up with nothing more than his overcoat and a sheepish look on his misshapen visage.

Turns out our lumpy friend had landed a new part-time job that would see him indisposed every Wednesday night from here on in. Reluctantly we waved him off and rolled up the green baize, knowing that our card night had been consigned to the annals of history (after all, I can’t just play with Elsie- she’s a rotten cheat and besides, she always gets doggy drool on the playing cards).

Seeing as I was now at a mid-week loss, I decided it was time to find a new hobby. After contemplating kung-fu classes (too energetic), flower arranging (too competitive), and yoga (too bendy) I hit upon the idea of art lessons. I duly googled my options and happily discovered a local class starting the following Wednesday to which I immediately signed up.

Over the next few days, I sharpened by pencils, dusted off my sketch book and cultivated a fetching beard-and-afro combo in homage to the late, great Bob Ross (the hair-bear king of landscape painting). By 7pm on Wednesday night, I was sitting, easel prepped, in a draughty community centre with a handful of amateur artists, waiting for the lesson to begin.

Which is where it all went a bit pear-shaped. Or Igor-shaped to be more precise.

You see, tonight’s class was to be on life drawing and, as our tutor unveiled our nude model for the evening, it all became eye-wateringly clear just what Igor had been getting up to every Wednesday evening. Needless to say I simultaneously came to see my butler in a brand new light and developed and aversion to walnuts that will probably haunt me to my dying day.

Still, judging by the following Frankenstory by Lauren and Kel, I’m not the only one to be suffering for my art…

He had decided to kill his professor the previous night after she had humiliated him in front of the entire art class. His masterpiece had been a lovely painting, and after he had finished it he could not wait to show everyone what he had in his pants. The next day, he went wandering in the rain, hoping this would optimize the effects. He knew that the person he admired most would be very pleased with him when he finally revealed his painting, but instead, she had laughed and said all manner of terrible things until she had the whole class laughing. That was when he decided to kill her. He had put a lot of thought into how to do it, so he knew it was going to be beautiful. Finally, the unveiling came. He stood upon his makeshift stage, and, with a deep and purposeful breath he glanced between those who watched him; then, he dropped his pants.

THE END

(See the original story here)

Right then, I’m off to burn my sketchbook in the garden and find myself a decent psychiatrist who can help me erase the unbearable mental scarring.

Sketchily Yours,

Dr. Victor E. Frankenstory

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Grab Yourself a Pizza da Action

November 29th, 2009 by Dr. Frankenstory

Ciao e Benvenuto mein wunderbare Frankenfriends!

Isn’t dial-a-pizza wonderful? You pick up the phone, bark out your orders and then half an hour later a fast food angel arrives on his scooter of wonders to deliver flatbread nirvana straight into your eager little mitts. It truly is a miracle of modern convenience eating but, as Will and Jolie’s Frankenstory demonstrates, ordering those delightful discs of doughy yumminess isn’t without it’s perils…

The music on the radio chimed off and she focused her gaze on the door. She hadn’t looked up in 12 years, but she knew something was special about today; she could feel it. A knock: she had a visitor. He held a rectangular paper box which gave off the aroma of cheap food and grease. She let him enter her home after he tipped his red baseball cap, but she failed to notice his queer grin. Snap! And just like that, his entire being exploded and little pieces of man and baseball cap sprayed the woman. “What rotten luck,” said the woman, nonchalantly,”oh well, I mustn’t be late for the party.” She went to said party grinning-and-bloodily. after finding her pizza unsatisfying and eating the pizza man instead. Fortunately, all of the other partygoers thought the blood was fake and she was soon the life of the party, with the pizza man as its death.

(See the original story here)

So next time you’re tempted to order that XXL ‘Explosively Hot’ with ‘napalm sauce’ and double firecracker chilis, you might want to think about opting for the ham and pineapple option instead!

Anyway, got to run – the doorbell has just gone and the tantalising smell of tomato sauce and gunpowder suggests that Igor has opted for ‘The TNT special’ again. Time to grab the napkins. And the sandbags.

Until next time, stay half-baked.

Arrivederci amici,

Dr. Victor E. Frankenstory.

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A Nightmare on Sesame Street

November 7th, 2009 by Dr. Frankenstory

Guttentag my worthy story connoisseurs!

This week sees the 40th anniversary of Sesame Street, that much-loved stalwart of kiducational television and all of us here at the Frankenlab confess to being massive fans of the show. This is partly because we’d all secretly love to be best friends with Elmo and partly because The Count was an old dance partner of Igor’s mum back in Transylvania (in fact Igor’s slightly pointy canines and obsessive love of algebra does make me wonder sometimes).

Either way we were shocked by the recent  criminal allegations brought to light by Frankenstory detectives Maffew and Alex about a certain well-know Muppet. Could there be really a secret dark side to the world’s favourite frog?

There had always seemed to be a rain storm when there was a new murder, he had gotten used to that over the years, it made examining the scene a bitch, but something here wasn’t right; the blood wasn’t washing off. Kermit looked down and placed his hands under the tap once again, the blood upon his green skin reminiscent of a macabre array christmas colours. All he needed now was some lights and tinsel. He chuckled to himself, was this insanity? Everything started to dissolve around him, the walls became glitter, vertigo hit. Did murdering someone really have this much off an effect on your mind? No, something was doing this, but what, who else knew?! The city was on to him. He never thought Miss Piggy would be so widely missed, she was no Beaker or Gonzo. He would have to admit it all to the police, his status as a Muppet would be disgraced forever. Jim Henson rolled in his grave.

(See the original story here)

Could it be true? Is our beloved singing amphibian really a raving homicidal maniac or is he being framed for a crime he didn’t Ker-mit?

Fear not, dear readers, I have it on good authority that Maffew and Alex are none other than crotchety Muppet theatre critics Statler and Waldorf in disguise, hell-bent on sabotaging the Kermit’s career!

Big Bird and Mr. Snuffleupagus have been duly dispatched to administer some ‘Muppet Justice’ so I don’t think we’ll be hearing from those troublemakers again.

Until next time, stay googly-eyed and endearingly cuddly.

Muppet-tastically yours,

Dr. Victor E. Frankenstory

(P.s. Today’s Frankenstory was brought to you by the letters ‘F’ and ‘S’ and by the number 40. Happy birthday Sesame Street!)

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