It had started with humiliation and ended with desperation.
Everything had gone so perfectly at first. But then it had been one setback right after the other until the entire plan was in shambles. The day Mister Waternoose had approached him with the plan to create the scream extractor, he should've turned tail and run. A wiser monster might have set aside his college rivalries, the petty squabbles of the day to day rat race for 'Top Scarer' on the board, the baggage of loathing he dragged at his heels, weighing him down like an old ball and chain. Maybe put that focus towards a brighter future free of a piece of machinery no better than a modern-day tool to implement torture on small human children, all in the name of some hypothetical energy revolution.
Unfortunately, Randall Boggs wasn't that wiser monster. He was hungry and starved for attention in more ways than one. Waternoose had watched the lizard from afar when scheming up a plan to keep his company afloat and help stop the never-ending crisis that was the scream shortage. Boggs was a loose cannon with a long list of college achievements Waternoose had found impressive, especially for a monster of his social stature. He had realized long before even considering Boggs that he could easily approach any of his employees, wave a stack of bills in their face, and essentially have what he was looking for without half of the trouble. But he wanted someone with the drive to back up their want for more. And he had seen that initiative in none other than Boggs.
Waternoose had proposed the idea one day over a private coffee break in his office. He'd complimented his performance in college and inquired about the engineering degree he had. Boggs was initially wary, eying him suspiciously through his slitted eyes, green eyes, that probed him for answers. He undermined himself at first much to the surprise of his boss. The old monster was quick to smooth out any concerns Boggs had with words of reassurance, a warm Cheshire cat smile. Twisting and molding Randall like puddy in his clawed hands, ensnaring him with promises of wealth, fame, and respect if he only agreed.
"Think of all the good you'll be doing not just for Monstropolis but all of the Monster world!", His words were vigorous, his movements bouncy, eyes bright with an idealistic future. Boggs took the bait just as he had suspected. Earning himself a partner that day with just the education and will to make this crazy idea come to fruition.
However, talks over shared drinks in an office made for someone living in the lap of luxury seemed like a far off dream now in comparison to the situation at hand as he was literally smacked back into the present. Head reeling from the impact of metal against flesh as the end of a shovel was brought down against his flat skull.
Again.
And again.
And again.
"Sto-!" Try as he might the words couldn't escape his mouth fast enough before the next strike took the air right from his lungs.
"Is way gunna eat thus wun too, ma?", cried the teen boy, pulling at the hem of his mother's sleeve as she brought the shovel up again.
She threw an agitated look over her shoulder, swatting away her son with the opposite end, "Look at that thin' boy!" She pointed in disgust, "Diseased, it is. Y'all wanna die?! Best kill it an dump it elsewhere."
Darkness bloomed between his eyes as he fought defiantly to stay sharp within the moment. Surging with waning reserves of adrenaline, his pain numb, and senses pushed to their limit. Randall tried forcing his way forward but speed was not on his side. The old lady struck him again hard, shoving him backward. Suddenly his world became a blur of fuzzy silhouettes and tangled limbs as he tripped over himself, falling to the floor with a loud thud. Weight from his body crushed his wrist at an awkward angle. He groaned as the darkness began to take him, wincing from newfound pain that coursed through his body, adrenaline fading. Somewhere above he could hear the fading voices of that old crone and her obnoxious son. The assault finally at a thankful pause. The monster willed his broken body up but there came no movement. He could feel the twitch of a muscle, the trickle of blood that itched his scales, the hardness of a yellowed carpet aged with years of tobacco, the soft thuds of clumsy footfall. Logic dictated that this meant he wasn't paralyzed, thankfully. But the resistance of a tired body dwindled any hope of him getting out of here alive.
Randall grit his teeth, slamming a fist into the old carpet. He was tired. And angry. And fed up with it all.
Within this moment he made a brief escape into the depth of his mind, a tumultuous ocean frothy with forgotten memories and surging with desperate fury. He wanted to try and reflect on his life in this moment of solace, knowing that surely it would be gone soon. Forcing away the negative and focusing on the positive, he recalled the warmth of his mother's bear hugs, baking treats at his grandmothers, the taste of a good homemade pie. Words of wisdom his older brother offered him shortly after the scare games, "I always see you walking with your head down. Try looking up, there's a lot to see."
But Randall wasn't an optimist. He was a pessimist through and through up until the very end. Filled to the brim with anger that reached every part of his being. Blocking out that positivity he needed so desperately.
"Mama, it ain't dead yet.",
There was more shuffling and the distinct metal clang of that horrible shovel, "Man up an hit it again then boy! I'm gettin' the truck." Keys jingled and a squeaky door swung open. "Meet may round the back when yer done an try not to get blood everywhere!"
He clenched his teeth, taking in a haggard breath that turned to a choking sob. 'I deserved better, I deserved more, I deserved-'
And then everything went black.
The sky was ablaze with the fire of the setting sun, sinking deeper into the horizon. Speckled rays dancing through the swaying branches roused by a cool winters breeze. Rising tall from dark brackish waters were cypress trees, hugging either side of a rising old dirt road well-worn with deep tire treads and flattened dry grass. The pleasant earthy scents of dirt, wet tree trunks, and damp moss seeping in through the cracked window of an old beat-up blue Jeepster lazily making its way down the road. Behind the wheel sat an older man, scowl hiding beneath the brim of a tan floppy sunhat much too large for his small head. At the rear of the car hung the heavy odor of booze while two women clung to each other, singing along to the latest pop song to find its way onto their radio.
Knuckles white against the grip of the steering wheel, the man darted his eyes up to the rearview mirror, clashing with a familiar set of bloodshot hazel. "Can you please stop that loud racket!?" -he ran a hand over his beard- "Sound like screaming coyotes!"
Tousled strawberry blond hair spilled down their shoulders like waterfalls, a network of rainbow beads bedazzling their chests. The older one smirked before hugging the younger one, toasting an empty beer can. "Laissez les bons temps rouler!" Cheered the two in unison, losing themselves in a fit of laughter.
"Bah." The old man rolled his eyes, waving a dismissive hand in their direction as they kept on singing.
A couple of days ago it had been his only daughter Mae's twenty-first birthday. Leonie, his wife, had found it only fitting to take her to the biggest party around, Mardi Gras, and party themselves silly. Letting them have some fun, he dropped them off in the heart of New Orleans with their bags and a small stack of money. Choosing to stay home and enjoy a week of microwave meals and fishing. His attention turned back to the road, mind zoning out to the thought of closing out his night with the last ounce of peace and quiet he could squeeze out of it. Losing himself to the insect noise of the bayou as he would settle down for the night, kicking back in the squeaky rocker his pappy made for his pa when he was just a kid. Cold beer in one hand, cigar snug between his lips. The girls off and passed out, long overdue for some real sleep.
Rounding the bend of the road, it diverged into a larger path befitting for two or more vehicles. He settled onto the right-hand side of the road, skirting some overgrown grass as he saw two bright specks off in the distance draw closer. The recognizable shape of his crazy neighbors 1993 Ford Ranger tearing up mud and muck as it shot down the road at a dangerous speed. Veering off as far as he could without putting his own family in danger of slipping into the alligator-infested waters, he clicked his tongue and shook an angry fist out the window in their direction. Stones and dust coated his car as they passed, the mother hot in the driver's seat, teenage son fumbling in the back holding on for dear life.
The man's attention was elsewhere, staring daggers at his neighbors when he heard Mae shriek out. "Stop!" Boot stomping down on the brake, the inertia of the car throttled the entire family.
Leonie faceplanted into the seat in front of her. "Damn!" -she lifted a hand to her head- "Is everyone okay?"
Mae had braced for impact and came out unscathed if not a little shaken by the sudden stop. She nodded her head to her mother, turning back towards the thing she saw through the windshield that prompted the stop in the first place. Her father, Chester, also stared out at the thing blocking their path.
Chester dug around the bottom passenger side seat of his jeep, rifling through garbage until his hand landed on the plastic handle of a large flashlight. "Stay in the car." He barked, hopping out from the driver's side, and slamming the door shut.
Mae kept quiet and curious, eyes locked onto what looked to be a large black tarp bundled around something noticeably long and big.
"Where on earth is your father going?" Leonie asked but received nothing but an unsure shrug.
Chester cautiously approached the tarp with his flashlight pointed on it. The light tracing the lump of something hidden beneath the black sheet. In the back of his mind, he was looking for clear signs that it might've been human without actually looking to check. The sight of a dead body was not something he ever wished to deal with. Thankfully luck seemed to be on his side. He bent over to pull the flap of the tarp back, jumping away when he finally saw what it was. Around ten feet long with four pairs of arms and a broad flat head, this had to be the world's strangest gator. He approached it, kneeling down. Despite his outward nature, Chester had always had a soft spot for animals of all kinds. Face to face with one beaten to the brink of death, he sighed. It didn't matter if it was mutated or had the face of something only a mother could love, it still deserved respect. All of nature still deserved respect.
"A taitalle!" Gasped Leonie, the cool February air sobering her up even more if the sight of the monster hadn't already.
Chester whipped around to see his wife, hands shaking. "A what now?"
"A monster!" She huffed, looking visibly upset. "It's a bad omen."
He turned back to the thing laying in the sheet. "Bad omen or not, it's still an injured animal."
"Leave it!" Leonie hissed out through clenched teeth. "That things not right."
He rolled his eyes. "If it's still breathing then we call someone. If it's not I'll leave it. Happy?"
Getting nowhere with her husband, Leonie marched back to the car and joined her daughter in the back seat.
Chester continued his investigation, taking in every detail of this weird creature. The purple scales that faded into turquoise along the ridge of the back, bruised head oozing with blood, the three- no four pairs of legs. This made him recoil but he stayed persistent looking for a sign of life. He would've checked for a pulse but the anatomy of this creature was so strange and alien that he couldn't be bothered to try to figure it out.
"C'mon there's gotta be..." His eyes roved the area that he assumed was the creature's chest and smiled when he saw the faintest trace of movement. Soft invisible breaths keeping this creature alive by a thread. Gently he laid a hand upon the lizard and patted. 'Keep fightin' big guy. I'll get you some help.'
Renewed with energy Chester jogged back to his jeep, tossed the flashlight into the car, and carefully drove around the creature. His wife pressed him for answers, knowing in the pit of her stomach that her husband had found what he was hoping to find. Eventually, they reached the gravel driveway of their home, the night now completely upon them. The swamp an orchestra of bug life. Leonie had mumbled something to her husband about not bringing that thing back to the house. But he was too distracted with gathering supplies to care, rushing around as if the devil himself were hot on his heels. Even Mae joined him in gathering supplies, jotting down a number for a wildlife rehabilitation center from the phone book, and letting him borrow her cell phone.
"Please be careful!" Leonie had shouted from the porch, her husband waving at her through the window as he reversed the jeep and disappeared off into the night.
The drive back was short and sweet and luckily the tarp and creature were still there. Chester pulled out Mae's cell phone and dialed the number on the piece of scrap paper. The phone rang and rang for what felt like an eternity until finally, someone picked up. On the other end was a woman with a warm and friendly voice.
"Forever Wild Rehabilitation and Education Center, this is Olivia speaking. How can I help?"
Chester cleared his throat before responding. "Er, hello mam. Name's Chester. So, I got an injured.. uh..animal here that looks like it's been beaten. It's in a pretty bad way right now."
A brief pause followed his introduction as there was some movement on the other end of the phone. "Could you please describe the animal to me and any injuries it may have to the best of your ability?"
"So about that.." Trailing off, he focused the light back onto the creature. "I'm not real sure what it is. The closest I can say is maybe a mutated salamander. Heads real bashed in with long gashes here and there. It's caked in mud but besides that, I don't see any other damage."
"A large amphibian, possibly a salamander with an injured head." She parroted back to him.
"That's would be it." Chester nodded, watching the uneven rise and fall of the lizard's chest. "Can you get a guy out here to transport it?"
Another brief pause. "I would need to check out the directory but we should have someone nearby to come get it. Would you mind if I put you on a brief hold while I checked?"
"That would be fine." He replied, kneeling down on the ground, stroking the back of the lizard. 'Help's coming big guy. Just hold on.'