Much to the humans surprise (and a little to their chagrin, I believe), our mission was a complete success—we found Victor’s creation in Lucerne. After catching a train from Interlaken, we began our strategically planned one-day search of the city. Leaving no 12th-16th century stone unturned, we thoroughly scoured all of the monster’s rumored haunts, pursuing all leads given by Victor, Shelley’s writings, and local folklore—all to no avail. Out of leads, time, and the humans’ patience, I could feel the sting of an impending hopelessness looming in my not-so-distant future. Then, at our last stop, as we watched the first hour of twilight casting its veil over the ancient city from the top of the tallest turret on the highest tower of Museggtürme (14-15th century fortified wall with nine lookout towers, located in the north sector of the city), a dark creature emerged from the shadows and began walking towards us. The last rays of sunlight pierced the sky just behind him, hiding the features of his face and amplifying the horror of his superhuman frame. The monster stood between us and the entrance to the blue-billion tiny steps that provided our only escape from the tower. Too scared to scream, the three of us stood before the abomination with the full realization that we were completely at his mercy. After what seemed like hours, the beast began to speak. His voice was surprisingly soothing, with a trance-inducing, melodic cadence—the kind of voice you hear narrating children’s books or nature documentaries. We fell into a fantastical reverie as the beast’s voice caste a dreamy web with his tale.
He knew we had been following him since our arrival in Geneva, though he didn’t know why, and admitted he barely escaped our sight on multiple occasions, beginning at the Villa Diodati during our search of Cologny. At first, he believed us to be paparazzi trying to crash his supposedly secret vacation. When our persistence outlasted the vigilance of even an LA “photojournalist,” he went on the offense and began following us. He eavesdropped on our conversations from shadowy tavern corners and heard our various inquiries for rumors and folklore from the locals. At first, upon discovering his “father”, Victor, filed a missing persons report to discover his whereabouts, he was furious. But after contemplating Victor’s various possible intentions, the beast had experienced a change of heart. He relayed his almost two-century tale as follows:
After skulking through the North Pole for a few decades, followed by various futile attempts to end his immortal life, he started down a new path. For the past century and a half, the monster has been on a quest for self-acceptance. He began his search on the Tibetan plateau, where the Dalai Lama offered this unusual disciple a safe and secret hideout while sharing the ancient teachings of the Buddha. Despite the Dalai Lama’s best efforts to conceal the creature’s existence, his many long afternoon walks through the Himalayas resulted in various sightings of a snow-covered abominable beast. When these reports resulted in questions the Dalai Lama couldn’t (or wouldn’t) answer, and people began questioning his divine wisdom, Frankie Jr. decided it was time to move on. From Tibet, the monster travelled west, taking a self-healing, meditative trek through Europe. He then proceeded to take a soul-cleansing swim across the Atlantic to the New World, where he then hiked the Oregon Trail. He spent an extensive amount of time in the Pacific Northeast. Despite his best attempts to remain hidden high in the mountains, the occasional human spotted him from a distance, and rumors of a big-footed hairy beast soon flooded the area. When a certain fortuitous hiker captured his retreat on video, the monster decided that no matter how he views himself on the inside, he would never be able to interact with humankind without a serious makeover. He made his way south, to Orange County, California, where he offered to be a test subject for various potential breakthroughs in plastic surgery. After years of painful, reconstructive and plastic surgeries, a series of personal trainers and dietitians, and celebrity stylists, the beast’s outside finally matched his inside. He gave himself a name and quickly entered humankind as a productive member of society, quickly gaining celebrity status and even becoming an inspiration to East Germany in 1989. Still, according to his twenty-first century philosophical leaders (Dr. Phil and Tony Robins—he has both on speed dial) his final step to self-acceptance and self-love remained untaken—forgiving his father. After meditating on his past over the last few days of revisiting his homeland, he wants to attempt this fateful final step through us. Though he does not want to contact Victor, and no longer has a need for his assistance in creating a female (he’s doing pretty well on his own in that department), he is willing to allow me to deliver a message of peace to Victor.
Victor, please do not attempt to contact your son. Though he no longer harbors ill will towards you, and promises to stop killing off your family and all those you love, he does not wish to kindle a relationship with you. He forgives you, and he loves you, but he does not like you very much. He did, however, agree to one photograph with me, as proof of his wellbeing, to ease your troubled heart and mind.
CLICK HERE TO SEE FRANKIE JR.
That concludes this penguin’s mission. The bureau is so impressed with my (I mean our… sorry humans) success, they have agreed to cut me loose on a solo mission. The humans and I will depart on divergent paths tomorrow—they will return to the states to recuperate from their week of gluttony, and I will make my way to Scotland, where a certain lakeside town has reported the disappearance of a beloved long-necked lassie. Wish me luck.
Cheers,
Parrington
