Monster Age

by GR Griffin

  Undyne took the path through the jungle. Up close, the palm trees were so high that they could have touched the sky. As if the beach was not weird enough, it only got weirder the deeper she progressed into the jungle. The land, trees and foliage were more than enough to support life, and yet there was none. No cackling of seagulls from the seaside; no whistling from parrots above, or whoops and hollers of wildlife. Nothing but dead, unsettling silent all around, as if she were walking straight into a trap. She was surrounded by nature, and yet there was nothing natural about it.

  The exit from the jungle came into sight, upon which, she found herself before a grated, bronze gate. Wedged between two twenty-foot high fences topped with spikes, the gate had two bears gilded into each door. Each one glared at Undyne with empty, angry eyes. A massive mansion stood before it, surrounded by the fence. Three stories tall and as wide as a ballpark, Bjornliege Manor looked lavish, but at the same time, old, almost ancient.

  One metre to the right of the gate was a rectangular prism that was as a couple of feet taller than Undyne, and had a screen, speakers, and a button on the front. Undyne approached the monitor and caught her reflection in the blank surface, which further rectified that she had been properly put back together. She tapped on the screen, leaving a print, but nothing happened.

  Her gaze turned to the button. “Should I…?” she whispered as she reached for it.

  Pressing down the button created a small, buzzing sound. She kept it held for a few seconds and then let go. She turned back to the screen and waited. After several seconds, she was about to press the buzzer again until the screen flickered to life.

  “Hello?” Undyne said as the person on the other side of the line materialised.

  A doorman appeared… or maybe he was a waiter. The monster on screen was literally a weight with two googly eyes and stick limbs. A white blazer took up the lower half and a groomed, black wig took up the top half.

  “Lord Grill’s Estate,” the weight monster said courteously through a none-existing mouth. His voice came out tinny on the speakers. “Estate your business.”

  “Hey, open up,” Undyne replied, less than courteous, “I wanna meet this Grill guy. I need some answers.”

  The doorman stumbled at the visitor’s tone. “First, it’s Lord Grill. Second, do you have an appointment booked, Miss?”

  “An appointment booked? For what?” Undyne asked.

  “To meet Lord Grill, Miss.”

  “I can’t have arranged anything. I just got here.” Undyne shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t even know where the heck I am.”

  “Regardless, I’m afraid to say that Lord Grill only takes reserved appointments.”

  “I can’t just go inside?”

  The doorman glanced to the left. “I don’t see anything scheduled on the list.” Then back to Undyne. “So, If you want to book an appoint—”

  Undyne interrupted, “So I can see him right now.”

  The doorman stumbled on his words. “I’m sorry?”

  “You just told me there’s nothing on the list, so I should be all set, right?”

  “You mean… you want to go in a meet Lord Grill right now…? Uninvited? Out of the blue?”

  Undyne narrowed her gaze on the weight. “That’s what I’m suggesting, genius.” She folded her arms and rapidly tapped her foot on the ground.

  “I can’t let you do that, Miss.”

  “Why not?”

  “I told you before.” The doorman cleared his throat. “You need to book an appointment.”

  “I don’t wanna book an appointment, idiot, I wanna see him now.”

  “Miss, you need an appointment—”

  Undyne heaved an impatient sigh. “Is anything happening right now?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Is there anything on the list?” Undyne pointed at the side of the screen. “Look at your list,” she said, sounding like she was addressing a five-year-old.

  Grumbling, the doorman turned his hefty body slightly to the left. “Okay, I’m looking at it now.”

  “Do you see anything on it for today?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Then this guy should have at least a few minutes to spare. Open the gate and let me talk to him.”

  “Miss, his name is Lord Grill, show some respect. Also, this really isn’t a good time to be making house calls.”

  “Why not?” Undyne said unpleasantly loud, feeling her blood beginning to boil.

  The doorman answered, “He’s in the middle of important business right now.”

  Undyne shoved her face into the monitor. “Are you kidding me? You tell me that now after saying there’s nothing on the list?” She grabbed the entire column and shook it wildly, almost tearing it off its foundation. “You open this gate right now, darnit!”

  The doorman kept his cool. “Miss, if you’ll please calm down, I can help you arrange an appointment—”

  “Read my lips.” Undyne brought her mouth to the screen, her breath misting it up. “I. Do. Not. Want. To. Book. A. Freak. Ing. A. Point. Ment.”

  The weighty doorman continued, “It’s a simple procedure. We start with the initial screening which can take around three to four months to complete…”

  Undyne threw her hands into the air. “This is ridiculous!”

  “After which, you’ll be asked to complete two months’ worth of paperwork…”

  “Stuff this! Take your paperwork and sit on it, dumbbell,” Undyne spat, literally. Dribbles of saliva flecked the monitor. “I’m coming in.” She caught the doorman’s words, urging her to reconsider her choice of action, as she stepped toward the gate. Her eye went upward and inspected the spikes.

  Undyne considered her options. Let’s see… I could jump the fence myself, but could there be some kind of projectile-launcher defence mechanism attached to those spikes? She neared the gate. I could use a few spears to… do what exactly? She wrapped a scally hand around the bear’s lower row of teeth. This gate doesn’t look very strong. I bet I could bash it – oh, wait, it’s open.

  Undyne applied a small amount of force and the bronze gate swung open on creaking hinges. Nothing stood in her way from her current position to the large, brown doors at the end on a fifty metre gravel path flanked on both sides by fountains and rose bushes. Two guards by the door, outfitted in hardened leather, watched lazily for the most part of a minute as the fish lady came closer and closer toward them.

  She was thirty feet away from the door when it burst open, and the monster from the monitor raced out toward her. In person, he was half the size of Undyne, roughly that of Alphys or Sans. His hairpiece bounced up and down on his flat head. He ran pretty fast for such a wide fella, he must work out. “Miss,” the doorman called out, holding his hands out in front of himself, “I implore you. Lord Grill’s really busy at the moment.” A shiny nametag flashed on his blazer: Jim.

  “Look here, Jimbo,” Undyne started. She stretched her arm out and effortlessly pushed Jim back by the forehead, all while continuing closer to Bjornliege Manor. “Just let me ask this guy a few questions, then I’ll go.”

  Jim’s feet skidded against the gravel, struggling to find traction. His twig arms flailed in a feeble attempt to halt her advance, but her arm was twice as long as his. The guards by the door watched on, not saying a word or moving a muscle. The little scrap between the short weight doorman and the tall fish lady served as the most interesting thing to happen all month, and would be the talk around the watercooler for the next two weeks. Yeah, things moved that slowly in these parts.

  “It’s just Jim; and it’s Lord Grill; and you don’t understand,” Jim pleaded. “Lord Grill gets really, really mad when things don’t go his way. He’s been especially uptight these last few days. I wouldn’t recommend talking to him at this moment in time.”

  Undyne suddenly stopped, three steps away from the main entrance. She brought her hand to the top of Jim’s head and grabbed hold. “Oh?” She lifted him up to meet his eyes
, then smiled like she meant it. “So maybe you’d like to answer my questions?”

  It was at this moment that Jim – the humble and sometimes heavy-handed doorman – did not know which side of this woman he found more terrifying: her angry side or her happy one. The sight of that humongous smile, full of yellow, razor-sharp teeth, made his thin limbs shake. He cursed the guards and their lack of urgency. “On… on second thought.” Jim chuckled nervously. Beads of sweat rained. “I think we can skip the initial assessment and the paperwork. If you’ll come with me, Miss…?”

  “It’s Undyne.” Her smile diminished after she said her name. “Just Undyne.”

  “If you’ll come with me, Miss Un-dine…”

  “I swear…” Undyne pulled him closer until their eyes were an inch apart. “If you call me ‘Miss’ one more time…”

  “If you’ll come with me… Un-dine… I’m sure Lord Grill can make an exception.”

  * * *

  “No! No! NO!” the lord of the manor, Grill, roared, wobbling both his abundant belly fat and the beige walls of his domain. All the hairs of his thick, brown fur stood up. “I told you once; I told you twice; I told you a million-billion-trillion times: that does not interest me anymore!”

  His harem, made up of twenty-three wives, shrank and squealed before him, quivering in their skimpy garments. Lord Grill’s anger was not uncommon, but never a pretty sight and never easy to subdue.

  Lord Grill, a six-and-a-half-foot tall grizzly bear, sat upon his favourite chair in his recreation room, surrounded by tables of food. He wore a frilly white shirt, a red vest with golden buttons ready to burst, and a black cape with patterned edges as red as blood. His pants and boots were the same colour as his cape, minus the crimson edgings. His seat of rich wood and plump cushions groaned under his ever-increasing weight. A great blaze roared from a nearby fireplace. Two guards stood stationed by the door.

  Being in cahoots with the Emperor – especially the new one – had its perks, from his harem, to his land, to his manor, to the food piled up in mountains on the tables. The dishes beneath didn’t stand a chance. Grill snatched an organic leg of meat from the stack, smothered it with ketchup, and chomped into it, ripping off a piece bigger than his jaw could handle. Drops of red sauce stained his red vest, which used to be a different colour, now long lost to time and litres of ketchup. When he was mad – which took up a good portion of his day – eating helped to calm his nerves, or at least he liked to think that it did. His servants, wives, and guards speculated that eating did nothing to quell his rage, he just ate because he liked eating, as one would have guessed just by looking at him. Either way, eating was Grill’s favourite pastime, so whether it helped or not was irrelevant. He liked to eat, he had an excuse to eat, and he had a reason to not stop eating.

  “But, my lord,” one of the grizzly bear’s wives – a bunny in a skimpy bunny outfit, so she had two pairs of ears and two fluffy tails – cowered. “We try so very hard each and every day to fill all your needs.”

  Another chimed in; a penguin monster wearing a tuxedo. “Our one desire is to please you.”

  A third, a turtle wearing a turtleneck, cried, “We would never want to disappoint you.”

  Grill swallowed hard. His gulp was so powerful that it echoed off the walls. “Enough of your excuses. I think you’re all in need of some re-education.”

  All the wives reacted badly to this – some screamed, others whimpered and cried. They begged to not be sent for re-education. Honestly, the less said about it, the better. They had been through it before, and they knew for a fact, that it was a fate worse than death – or at least, a fate worse that going to the dentist.

  All of a sudden, the doors at the far end opened, followed by the meek figure of the lord’s most average, run-of-the-mill doorman. Grill could not remember whether his name was Tim, Kim, Jim, or Schrijnemakers-Maceachthighearna.

  “Your lordship?” Jim, the doorman, said, tiptoeing into the room.

  Lord Grill swung his leg of meat in rage, scattering ketchup everywhere. “What did I tell you about interrupting my private sessions?”

  Jim jumped, startled. He cupped his hands over his twenty kilogram chest. “My deepest apologies, my lord, but we have a guest here who wishes to speak to you.”

  Grill gnarled at his leg of meat like a starving dog. “Why are you wasting my time?” he asked with a full mouth. “Send them away immediately. I don’t take surprise visits.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to do, but she just won’t go away, no matter—”

  Grill’s face lit up. At first, it appeared that he might have started choking. “A woman?” He swallowed his mouthful, his anger having suddenly faded. No doubt he would pen that down to his ravenous eating habit. “Please, send her in. I would be interested in meeting this one.”

  Jim nodded in confirmation. “R-right away, your lordship.” And retreated back from whence he came, faster than when he entered.

  Lord Grill looked down the half-eaten leg – it looked like meat, tasted like meat, smelled like meat, felt like meat, but ultimately, it was not meat. In the Outerworld, where the lands were bountiful and self-sustaining, there existed no such thing. He had time for one more mouthful; he nibbled a tiny bit off and threw the leg back on the mountain, where he would finish it later. There were many half-eaten slabs of fake meat that he was meant to ‘finish later’.

  Grill rubbed his paws together; the rings on each finger jingled off each other. He eyed his wives, who were all standing there, looking scared. “I didn’t say stop,” he suddenly snapped. The wives jumped to attention and prepared themselves for the routine that they had trained for years to master, one that they knew always calmed their master. They formed a perfect line, placed their hands on the hips on the wife in front… and did the conga around the expanse of the room. The routine was five steps, kick to the left, five steps, kick to the right, and repeat until either Lord Grill got tired or they did.

  Attached to the lord’s vest was a collection of eight golden bells, one for each servant. Lord Grill plucked the third one on the left, rang it, and waited two seconds for the selected servant to appear before him, having slinked from a hidden door. “Fetch me my breath freshener,” Grill ordered “I wanted it ten seconds ago!” A moment later, he had it, and sprayed generous amounts into his gob.

  The door to his domain opened once again. There, entering through the doorway, was the fine figure Lord Grill had been waiting for. The very first sight made Grill’s jaw drop. He might as well as told his harem to take a break, because he wasn’t going to notice them now. His mansion became a blur and all outside noises went dead as he was unable to break his gaze from the lady. The way she moved, how she carried herself so confidently, filled Grill with a desire he did not think he could ever fulfil… but he would try nonetheless.

  Lord Grill rose and stepped graciously across the room, focused purely on the target and nothing else. With the amount of fat on him, it was a miracle that he could even breathe, let alone walk. His cape reached down to his ankles and fluttered in a less-than-elegant fashion.

  The specimen only got more beautiful the closer he got. Tall and slender, just the way he liked it; smooth, scaly skin; and that red mane was the cherry on top. The woman’s face scrunched up as she caught sight of the conga line. “And I thought Alphys was into some weird stuff…” she muttered under her breath.

  “I bid you welcome, young lady,” Lord Grill spoke in the most humble tone which he could muster. “What brings you to my humble home?”

  The woman pulled away from the spectacle to point at the grizzly. “Are you that Grill guy?”

  The corner of Grill’s mouth twitched. It had been too long since someone spoke his name without the ‘lord’ part. Already, this woman was off to a bad start, but he would be as patient as he could. “Lord Grill, I am. And you?”

  “My name’s Undyne, and I—”

  Grill shushed her. “Quiet, please. Allow me to savour that na
me.” He breathed deeply through his snout, allowed the name Undyne to roll around in his head. “Undyne…” he whispered, finding something alluring in the way it sounded. “Undyne… Your name in Undyne…”

  Undyne raised a finger to say something. “I—”

  Lord Grill reached out and placed a finger on her lips, stopping them in their tracks. “Shhhhh,” he cooed slowly and softly. “I just need another minute.” As if sampling a fine perfume, Grill continued to repeat her name, each time in a wanting manner.

  Undyne’s eye twitched. She wanted to take that finger off with a single bite, but resisted the temptation. Already, this guy was a creep, but as of that moment, he had not committed any wrongdoings. She pushed it away and said, “Are you done yet?”

  “Hold on…” His eyes remained closed a few more seconds, and then reopened on her, full of recognition. “Now I’m done. You and your name go together like honey on a ham.”

  “Um… thanks?” In truth, Undyne had no idea what he just said, but decided to act flattered anyway.

  The royal bear wrapped his blubbery arm around his guest’s shoulders and guided her toward his throne. “Let us take a seat,” he said, “there is so much that I wish to discuss with you.”

  “I… just want some answers.” Undyne felt her scales crawl; his arm weighed heavy on her shoulders and made breathing that slight bit difficult. “I’ll be gone in a few minutes.”

  “Then we better make every second count.” Lord Grill procured four bells from his vest and jangled them in one hand. “Servants. My royal couch!”

  The mansion must be breeding manservants at this point, because two more marched in and lifted the concave royal seat for one out, while another pair replaced it with a royal seat for two. The royal couch had the exact same style as the throne – black wood with white cushions – although this one had seen much less use. There was an odd sense of fear ebbing from the couch, as if it was dreading the moment where it had to burden its master on its back. Grill took his place on the right side and Undyne sat down on the opposite armrest.