Frankenstein
Page 8
We are surrounded by mountains of ice; the cold is excessive. Many of my unfortunate comrades have already found a grave. They go frozen stiff, so we cast them over the side. Frankenstein has daily declined in health. Three times in the last week he has nearly died. He suddenly has feverish fire in his eyes; but he is exhausted, and when suddenly roused to any exertion he speedily sinks again into apparent lifelessness. We throw buckets of water over him.
The ship is immured in ice, we are all shit scared and the crew want to mutiny. When Frankenstein heard this he addressed them with a courageous speech. He encouarged them to be brave and that their hearts be strong and their spirits become heroic. With that he sang ‘God Save the Queen’.
He was willing to risk the lives of every sailor in an endeavour to catch his monster. What a prick! The leader of the sailors said that Frankenstein was a cunt: “Listen to him and we’ll all fucking snuff it.”
My chief intention was occupied by my unfortunate guest, a more unfortunate guest I’ve yet to have, whose illness increases by degrees and he is entirely confined to his bed and needs a po, but his aim was so appalling that urine went everywhere except in the chamber.
September 7th, 17––.
The die is cast; I have consented to return – if we are not first destroyed.
September 12th, 17––.
There was a shout of tumultuous joy. Frankenstein asked what the shout was.
“They shout,” I said, “because they will soon return to England.”
“Do you really return?”
“Alas! yes. I cannot withstand their demands. I cannot lead them unwillingly to danger, and I must return. They have threatened me with fifty lashes, then being hung from the yardarm, keelhauled and made to walk the plank and swallow the anchor; fuck that.”
“You may give up your purpose, but mine is assigned to me by Heaven.” Shouting this, he sprang from his bed straight into the po, but the exertion was too much for him. He fell back and fainted, the silly sod.
At length, he opened his eyes; he breathed with difficulty. In the meantime, he told me he had not many hours to live. Quickly, I telegraphed an insurance policy on his life with Lloyds.
To make life difficult, Frankenstein revived. I waited patiently for him to die again but, alas, he raved on endlessly about the monster. At length, exhausted by his effort, he sunk into silence. About half an hour afterwards, he attempted again to speak, but he wasn’t very clear.
Margaret, what comment can I make on the untimely extinction of this glorious spirit? What can I say that will enable you to understand the depth of my sorrow? Unfortunately, all he has left behind is a cabin reeking of stale urine.
Great God! what a scene has just taken place! I entered the cabin where lay my ill-fated friend. Over him hung a form which I cannot find words to describe: gigantic in stature, yet uncouth and distorted. As he hung over Frankenstein, he heard the sound of my approach; he sprang towards the porthole and got stuck half way. I called on him to stay for beans on toast and Horlicks.
He paused, turning towards the immobile form of his creator. He seemed to forget my presence; in return I forgot his. His voice seemed suffocated: “I did – did it, uuh, I deaded him, your missus. I am saying sorry, Frank.”
Not noticing, Frankenstein attached two grenades to the monster’s balls that exploded, blowing the monster’s balls to smithereens. The cabin was speckled with bits of monster balls.
“Eureka!” shouted Frankenstein.
“Elizabeth, I killed her for her fags. Yes, I done Frank’s wife in, but he tore my woman to bits. At least his wife is still in one piece. My wife’s bits are in a basket at the bottom of the sea. Oh give me a fag,” he said as he snatched the packet from my hand and then stuffed six of them in his mouth. “I’ll have dat beans on toast now while I run over the frightful catalogue of my sins, which are on sale at all good book shops; oh bugger! this cabin stinks of piss; let’s go up on deck.”
The monster cast a last glance at Frankenstein. “He’s snuffing it. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer man. But soon,” he cried, “I shall die and what I now feel is no longer felt. Soon these miseries will be extinct. I shall ascend my funeral pile triumphantly smoking the best Virginia cigarettes, and exult in the agony of the torturing flames. If they get too bad, I’ll call the fire brigade. The light of the conflagration will fade away; my ashes will be swept into the sea by the winds. My spirit will sleep in peace.”
He sprang from the window upon the ice-raft which lay close to the vessel. He was soon borne away by the waves, and lost in darkness and distance.
I descended to the cabin. I shook Frankenstein. “Wake up, Frank! You can stop pretending to be dead; he’s gone!”
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