This is just a fun monologue that I wrote for Drama this year. It's different- and may not be as funny as it was when I delivered it. So now to the tale of the Monster Of Meddybemps.

I am here to tell you a tale. A scary tale. A tale made even more horrid by the fact that it is absolutely true. I am telling you so that you may beware of... Fred!

Meddybemps lake. Peaceful, quiet. The silence broken only by an occasional ethereal loon call. A haven for all creatures- from warblers to lunes, from fish to turtles, from eels to the unmentionable. Yet two girls lose sleep, knowing that this is all a front. Knowing that deep below the surface lurks a cold-blooded creature known only as... Fred!

Fred is the fish. Not A fish. THE fish. The fish that got away. Every fish that bites your line and steals the lure, every fish that comes so close you can see the laughter in his eyes before he lets go, that's Fred. Fred is anywhere and everywhere. He is a trickster, and he is every fisherman's bane.

Fred lives at the bottom of the lake, where few dare to tred. If you were to venture down there, you would find a hole in the ground. If you were to look inside of that hole, you would see a horrendous sight. A hearth, surrounded by flies... fly fishing flies. Yellow and blue, red, and cerise, too. Fred had every kind of fly. Every one but one. Fred hated this fly. Above his hearth, in the only blank spot, was a plaque, the placque where the fly would soon lie. On it were inscribed the words, "Rest In Pieces, Mr. Googly-eyes."

One day, two unsuspecting girls decided to venture onto the lake for some nighttime trawl fishing. A blond, her Brunnette cousin, and the Brunnette's greying dad. The girls had all grown up with the tales of Fred, they had even met him before, but they took his treachery all too lightly. Yes, they sorely underestimated Fred, and they would pay the price.

The sky was tinted pink as the boat set out, two poles hanging over the side with the flies bobbing behind them. The night's cheery beginning gave no indication of what was to later come. Of the horror that awaited them on the lake that night. For the girls would soon lose someone very near and dear to them... at the hands of Fred!

It was not long before the Brunnette gave the much anticipated cry of, "I got one, I got one!" Yet, alas, it was the parrot of Meddybemps, the bull lillipad. Cursing and threatening the lillipad with various magical eating utensils and a certain unnamed aardvark, she tossed it disdainfully into the bottom of the boat.

Not long afterwards, it was the blond's turn for fun, as she felt the pull, and then saw the telltale jump. Neatly landing the bass, she triumphantly announced that the score was now one-zip in her favor. The brunnette glowered from her corner of the boat.

The night wore on, and as the blond's pile of fish grew larger, the brunnette's crys of "I'll hit you with my magical green spork," Grew more and more frequent, until, finally, the tricky bull lillipad stole her lure.

*** Deep within the bowles of the lake, The Moster Known Only AsFred stirred.


The brunnette grumbled something incomprehensible about burning the lillipad in the fires of her fireplace, but suddenly brightened. Exchanging excited glances with the blond, she rummaged through the tackle box. The brunnette grinned broadly as she pulled out a hideous green fly with red hairs on it, and, large, bright red eyes with yellow pupils, "It's Mr. Googly-eyes!" They chorused together. They would catch a big one tonight. Mr. Googly eyes had never failed them before.


Mr. Googly eyes was the greatest fly to ever float the lake, and boy, he had caught fish. he had caught them all. Red fish, and blue fish, one fish, two fish, old fish, and new fish! Fred hated Dr. Suess, almost as much as he hated Mr. Googly-Eyes.


The brunnette deftly tied Mr. Googly eyes on the line, and cast him off into the dark depths. He only bobbed on the surface for a moment before she felt the pull, "I know I got one this time!" And soon he jumped... and what a jump it was. Such a splash they had never seen. This was a big fish, and he was pulling like one, too. Suddenly, the line went slack. Had he escaped? The thought was brealy formed when another jump slammed the line taught. the brunnette reeled in. Faster, and faster- and then, there was the line, flapping lureless in the wind.

"NOOOOOOO! MR. GOOGLY-EYES!" The girls' heart wrenching cries could be heard across the lake. On the way back, the sun reflected on the water red... Blood red.

Fred's hearth is void of any bare wall

Mr. Googly eyes was never heard from again.

I am telling you this because it's true. I am telling you this so that you may be warey. Warey of Fred. How do I know it's true? I was there. I was there that fateful night when an innocent fly lost his life. I was the brunnette. Total fiction, you may think. Such a thing could never happen. But it did. Some night, if your drifting on a peaceful lake, don't get too relaxed. Remember what lurks beneath the surface, just waiting for you to let down your guard. Remember Fred. Remember Mr. Googly-Eyes... you have been warned.

Well, what did you think? Please read and reply.