This is the story of Frankenstanley
abominable ears and legs a’gangly
thrown together from a box of bits
jolted alive with crocodile clips
but when I saw my drear creation
staggering around the messy work station
I felt so foolish! I’d been such a mug!
I immediately tried to pull the plug
Frankenstanley beat me to it
saw a window and leapt right through it
out of his mind! out of control!
we only caught up at the fucking North Pole
Now we’re doomed to traverse the ice
and the cold winds clamp my nuts in a vice
so in conclusion to this letter
I think science is fine but Literature’s better
I built a creature out of scraps / inner tubes, kitchen taps / a bucket for a head / (I mean, sure – I had a corpse I could have used instead / with slick black hair & moustache / but I thought it’d make it way too flash / so fuck it / I went with the bucket) / for the brain I scavenged some window cleaner’s spongies / hemispherically linked by courier bungees / marinated overnight / by the light / of a box set of Walking Dead / (I wore headphones and read instead) / it didn’t really need a heart / I mean, for a start / there wasn’t any blood as such / just a weeny sump / in his trunks / that didn’t need pumping all that much / so to enliven / the mediastinum / and give some zhuzh to the void inside him / I hung my dad’s old pocket watch / a watch he never used that much / but kept it hidden away because / he thought it was worth much more than it was / but I think even he would agree / it twirled and chimed in the cavity / beautifully
at last it was time for the creature’s innervation / the moment of truth for my monstrous creation / so chuckling in a manner I thought befitting / for the cliche horror I was committing / I snapped two crocodile clips on his bolts / and shot him through with a thousand volts / he juddered, he woke / he opened his eyes and spoke / what the fuck, he said / smacking his bucket head / with a terrible clanging / my sponge is banging / what the fuck did I DO last night? / and then flexing his grabbers left and right / he swung his plunger feet off the trolley / and came to a sitting position slowly / and suddenly saw me standing there / in my goggles and gauntlets and frazzled hair / jesus christ he said you’re worse than me / any chance of a cuppa tea? /
we were together two years / before the cracks appeared / I suppose I was introverted, happiest in the laboratory / he was extroverted, sexually exploratory / polyamory / HE suggested / even though I protested / I didn’t think I could share / he didn’t care / slicking back his wire brush hair / welding spats on his suckers / striding out for a sordid tryst with his truckers / I have to admit, I fell to pieces / while he indulged his sexual caprices / he lost the watch in a casino / as far as we know / my dad’s half-hunter / gracing the waistcoat of some sleazeball punter / I mean – is that what my Dad deserved? / the treasure he’d so lovingly preserved? / and in the end it was the watch that did for us / calling time on the hurt and mistrust / and after a lot of hard words and crashing about / he finally moved out / a single, oily rag / trailing from his overnight bag / a slam of the door, a fling of a wrench / and me, sobbing on the laboratory bench
five years later /
I’ve built myself a different kind of appliance / we sit on the sofa in comfortable silence / plug in hand in regulatory compliance / it’s a cosy little domestic scene / and I’m happier now than I’ve ever been / and the creature? / he’s a star presenter / on a reality show about mad inventors / the contestants get a box of junk / and have to make a sexy lunk / while the creature hams it up and leers / fondling all the cogs and gears / (and y’know? I’d be the first to admit / he was always good at that flirty shit) / and I’ll sometimes binge-watch back to back / and wonder how we drifted off track / how he lost his heart / and mine was diminished / and our love affair was fatally finished / despite all the levers and lightning shocks / the plutonium grains in a lead-lined box / the scribbled plans, the body maps / the rapturous rise, the thunderous collapse / and for WHAT? / some bucket-headed creature, lumbering home at dawn / monstrously drunk on the castle lawn?
I mean – fuck that