The more I think about it, the less likely it seems that these folks would get together protect humanity from … anything. So what are they doing? Wilbur might still be interested in calling his “father” to Earth but I doubt that Frank (I’m just going to call him that – typing “the Frankenstein Monster” every time is tedious) or Helen would think that was great idea. Maybe they are planning a heist?
I didn’t plan to post this image on Christmas Day. I schedule posts for Sundays and Wednesdays. I finish coloring an image and then put both the black and white version and the color version into the queue. I finished coloring this one on November 7th. The next available slot for posting was today.
Three beings of improbable, one might even say miraculous, birth sharing fellowship. We are all monsters to someone. And we all need a place to call home, if only for moments. So, no, I didn’t plan to post this image on Christmas Day but it seems like an appropriate choice.
Merry Christmas to all you monsters. May you have rest and companionship today. Amen.
I’ve always felt sympathy for Wilbur Whateley. He was a smart guy in town full of ignorant, inbred hillbillies. Not nice ignorant, inbred hillbillies either. If being intelligent wasn’t bad enough, he was also half … something not of this earth, not of this galaxy, not of this plane of existence. Even if he’d tried to get along with his neighbors there was only so much sharing he could do with them before they discovered how much he wasn’t like them.
He was also young. He was only eighteen years old when he died. He might have been nine feet tall with a full beard but he was barely an adult. If he was sure that he had no place among humanity, it makes perfect sense that he’d want to call his “real” father to come get him – and cleanse the world of all those unwelcoming homo sapiens.
Even then he might not have felt he measured up. After all, he could still pass as a human being. His twin brother looked more like his father. When Yog-Sothoth came through the gate Wilbur couldn’t know if It would reject him for being too much of this Earth.
From left to right – Wilbur Whateley, the Frankenstein Monster and Helen Vaughn. I did a portrait of this trio last year. I didn’t think I did them quite the justice they deserved so here’s another attempt.