This week, I think I scared myself researching for the Monster Laboratory. I mean I’m writing this article more than a little freaked out. Two things I learned to fear legitimately at an early stage in my life are: wasps and spiders. Bites and stings are not my thing. Fortunately, I grew up mainly in the Midwest and Pacific Northwest, so I rarely encountered too many big evil bugs. Besides the occaisional brown recluse or bald-faced hornet. Both of which ought to make anyone sensible run for their lives - but being a young boy with inclinations towards becoming a zoologist, I actually caught these things and ’studied’ them. No one can accuse me of overdosing on common sense!

I remember when I was around seven years old my parents got the Disney Channel for me as part of my birthday present that year. Since they wouldn’t let me watch anything cool this made up for it because they had incredible nature specials and I could not have been more obsessed with animals and insects if someone had genetically engineered me specifically to love such creatures. One nature special I was particularly fond of was Walt Disney’s True Life Adventures - The Living Desert (which is extremely hard to get ahold of). I had no idea the show was from the 1950’s, but I remember every time it came I on I totally ditched Count Duckula or Danger Mouse to watch it, instead. Aside from the sidewinders, I found the tarantula hawks disturbingly fascinating. Never heard of a tarantula hawk?

WELL ALLOW ME TO SHOW YOU ONE - PH33R!

In case you’ve not yet wet yourself at the mere site of this shiney blue-black death angel, get ready cause you’re gonna. A Tarantula hawk (not to be confused with the San Diego band of the same name) is a wasp. I could be a jerk and rattle off a bunch of Latin names to try and confuse you to soften you up for the freak out, but nah. This sucker’s scary enough as it is, trust me. Unlike the wasps you may have encountered thus far in your lives, Merry Readers, these wasps are pure evil. Sure, other wasps are stingy, bitey creatures bent on ruining your picnic or whatever, but tarantula hawk wasps don’t mess around. They do one thing and one thing only (aside from reproducing, obviously): hunt and kill tarantulas (and other spiders).

But hey, so does my dog Marilyn, so what’s the big freakin’ deal, right? It’s in the how, grasshoppers! The sinister method of it all. See, these blue-black wasps with their orange colored wings are warning nature to leave them the [edit] alone! At up to two inches long, they’re not small and the stinger of the female can be up to 1/3 an inch long BY ITSELF! You think I’m exaggerating like I do with the other articles? Ha! I wish. According to the Scmidt Sting Pain index (yes it’s real science check the link if you think I’m messing with you, cynics), the only creature in the world with a more painful sting is the bullet ant. Oddly enough, wasps, bees and ants are all in the same order of insects: Hymenoptera which means ‘membrane wing’ in Latin. Sorry, had to throw that in there. It’s been said that the sting’s so powerfully painful that even highly disciplined entomologists who are mentally prepared (not to mention experienced) with stings just melt down into screaming wrecks. The only thing that CAN eat them is the roadrunner (No not the Looney Tunes kind).

Alright, so they’re big and painful and predatory. Pretty badass, no? That’s not the sick part, Merry Readers, not by a stretch. Here we go into the sort of evilness horror writers wish they could invent. See, the tarantula hawk female is the primary hunter of the species. She flies around searching out spiders. Now you’re thinking ‘so what, she eats spiders‘, right? If only it were that simple. What she does is first stalk them (walking along the ground and she’s quite strategic, too, as you’ll see in the videos below) and leap on top of ‘em, sting ‘em a few rounds and finally the spider’s paralyzed. Not dead, you understand, merely unable to move or fight back. Sick.

Then she drags the sucker either back into its own lair or into one she’s dug herself with those wicked hooked legs she’s got (good for spider grappling). Once in the lair she then lays a single egg on the spider and makes her way back out, closing the nest behind herself. Once the egg hatches, the larva (think: maggot) will begin drinking from the juices of the STILL LIVING BUT PARALYZED spider. As it grows it will burrow into the spider, feeding on its body while carefully avoiding vital organs that way the spider’s alive for as long as possible while the larva develops itself from the dying spider’s body. If you think I’m making this up then dance yourself over to wikipedia and check for yourself!

Cool. Great, but this isn’t "Happy Bug Palace" it’s Happy Horror and we’re doing Monster Laboratory so you’re probably wondering how in the hell all this random wasp info applies. See, when glittersoul and I saw one of these in our front yard a couple days ago, she pointed out that it’d be perfect for Monster Lab if you combined the concept of a tarantula hawk wasp with that old movie, The Fly. Genius, I know, she’s good with this kinda stuff. Here’s our proposal…

You’ve got an angry entomologist, a former employee of a lab that does insecticide testing for a major pesticide company. They’ve screwed this guy over because he doesn’t want to test certain slow-killing poisons on the occupants of his insect lab. He finds it totally immoral to do what this major company’s doing to the poor bugs who’re only doing their job. He takes it upon himself to fight back using what he knows about: bugs. Networking with a bunch of other crazy eco terrorist types he helps genetically engineer a new species of ten inch long wasp. The group decide to release a few into the wild with radio-tracking devices glued on, in order to study the behavior of this new highly predator super wasp. They hope that with wasps this potent flying about the woods of the world, the environment could stay intact longer because logging it would be far too dangerous. All’s going well until one of the three females somehow loses her tracking device. They cannot find her anywhere on radar, so a search team is sent out and the angry entomologist is now burning up to find his precious creation.

While in the woods he comes across an unusual sight: the un-tagged female’s gotten ahold of one of his colleagues. The man’s dead, blue and pasty looking. The wasp crawls all over the body, biting away at the man’s shirt. All the entomologist (let’s call him Dr. Grinner) can do is watch in silent horror that slowly gives way to awe. This new wasp lays an egg inside the colleague, then flies away.

Dr. Grinner approaches, mystified and leans down to look at the puncture spot, still oozing blood, where the wasp laid her egg. When he gets close he realizes that the man’s still breathing. Barely, but he’s clearly alive just not conscious. Hearing a strange sound, Grinner turns and sees the wasp not five yards away, busily excavating a pit. Knowing the habits of the natural tarantula hawk wasp, Dr. Grinner radios back to his teammates that he’s going to be late returning because he believes he’s found something he wants to take notes on or some silly BS like that.

As it turns out, Dr. Grinner’s far too selfish to admit to anyone that he saw the wasp paralyze his colleague. Since these guys are terrorists, they can’t very well go ask the FBI for a search and rescue team in some obscure forest. He witnesses the female wasp completely bury the man and secretly monitors the progress of the larva’s development - all for science, you understand.

Then one day the the larva emerges and Dr. Grinner (who’s long gone without bathing or enough to eat and is now slightly derranged) sees the new wasp emerge from its burrow after having devoured the corpse. It’s a disgusting sight, fer sure, with the wasp being slightly larger than what Dr. Grinner anticipated. In fact, it’s not really a wasp at all. Somehow the DNA of the super wasp mixed with the DNA of the Grinner’s colleage and what emerges is an infant-sized creature with arms and legs that have hooks for toes. This new species looks creepily similar to a human if humans were blue-black with orange wings and had segmented bodies. While Grinner rejoices, praising himself and taping the whole thing for science on his camcorder, he notices the creature tilting its head to watch him. Then the wasp-person begins crawling towards him and Grinner gets nervous, backing away.

Suddenly, the wasp thing scurries over to him and when he begins to outrun it, it takes flight and we see it covering the camera as he screams while it stings him - presumably, to death.

From here the movie can go pretty much anywhere it pleases. A predatory species of half-human half-wasp that I’m proud to name the Human Hawk Wasp. You’ve got to admit a movie such as this holds high potential for scaring the bejeezus out of audiences worldwide. Maybe the creatures set up a hive or some sort of society and go on a quest of vengeance for having been created. Perhaps they stalk and erradicate entire towns! Remember, insect armor is incredibly strong. Their exoskeletons bear (proportionally to their size) incredible amounts of weight. These things would be bullet-proof!

I’ll leave the rest of the imagining up to you, Merry Readers. If this movie doesn’t have ‘Sci Fi Channel Original‘ written all over it, then I don’t know what does! So start writing your letters and making those phone calls, let’s bring the Human Hawk Wasp into reality!

Oh, and here’s some videos of these wasps in action to get your blood pumping. But I warn you, they’re remarkably disturbing so make sure you’re willing to see how these things do their business before you go clicking the links.

The take-down sequence of the Tarantula Hawk Wasp stinging the spider to death 

Tarantula hawk wasp dragging a wolf spider around

Actually KILLING tarantula

That’s it from me regarding the Human Hawk Wasp, so be sure to turn in next week when I bring you yet another unheard of monstrosity for your demented pleasures! Until next we cross digital trails, this has been GlowStormLion warning you that just because man dominates nature right now doesn’t mean Mother Earth won’t eventually get fed up and shake us off like so many two-legged fleas!

You can find past Monster Laboratories by visiting our archives.

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Well, Merry Readers, we’ve reached yet another Wednesday and you know what that means? You got it - yet another episode of Monster Laboratory, our world famous weekly feature! I know a great many of you have eagerly waited all week to see the new monster and the mass madness that shall surely ensue following its unveiling. Fear not, for I have been in my laboratory whiling away the hours to create the most fearsome monster to date. Last week we saw Butcher Bears ™ and the brutal savagery of childhood treasures mistreated. The basic theme there? Revenge.

So, I figured this week we’d go ahead and play the good ole tune of revenge once again because it’s the sort of symphonic number I can dig on, royally. We’ll also be traipsing right back down memory lane for our chunks and pieces to build this terrible monster you’ve all anxiously awaited. Well, my memory lane, at least. Perhaps some of you remember what I do, though. Perhaps it wasn’t your first movie like it was for me, but I bet a good number of you’ve experienced the terror that is:

Stephen Spielberg’s E.T.

Oh, E.T. you say? Doesn’t seem scary to you? Ask Drew Barrymore what E.T. can do to a person’s life, then. Just you try being four years old and going to that [edited] up movie having no idea of what lies in store for you! Just you try being brave in the darkness while that [edited] little reject squeals and warbles in weird tones! You’d be lucky to only hide under your blanket, you might just add a bit more foul liquid to the theater floor!

Ahem. Personal experiences aside, I’m quite sure I know the reason Spielberg never made a sequel to E.T. and the reason why he never shall. Think about it: you got this alien down here teaching kids how to do Harry Potter shizz with their bikes and the feds step in to capture him for research. They cause the young alien great stress and grief, shortly before his ‘people‘ return for him. Know who that was in the flying saucers taking Elliott’s little play toy back to some other galaxy? His family! Do you have any clue what that means? Do you??

They’ll be back! Once they hear about how their precious, weird little offspring got treated here on Earth, they’re gonna get angry. Real angry. I don’t suppose you can guess exactly what they’ll be making a daytrip back to our planet for, can ya? Well, lemme give ya a hint, folks - not to bring gifts and tidings of interstellar joy, I can tell ya that. No, when ET’s fam gets the lowdown on how our government tried to probe him and take samples, they’re going to fly into a rage. Obviously creatures intelligent enough to man space craft that glows like theirs do know a thing or two. And maybe you missed this part, but remember the bit where ET’s little finger glows and all that? Yeah, cute. Guess what? It’s not cute at all, he’s simply a prepubescent alien without the full range of powers his kins possess!

Here’s what I predict:

E.T. is nothing more than a hatchling in the famous movie. He’s bound for the sort of mindblowing abilities that’d put the aliens in Alien (the movie) to shame. You see, that glowing finger trick only hints at the sheer awesomeness a full grown version of E.T. would wield. That gently glow, once they’re adults, becomes a superheated nuclear-level Incindiary Digit of Doom ™! After the final metamophosis they become E.T.P.’s, short for Extra Terrestrial Pyromaniacs. It’s not pretty. Once matured they could light you quicker than your mama’s Bic. They’d be out in the streets, shambling along, lightning anyone within distance into a halo of fiery death.

No big deal, right? You figure you’d outrun their pudgy lil butts? Wrong! They’ve got those space ships and the version we saw was the equivalent of a Ford Pinto in those aliens’ world. ET didn’t come from money, see? Now imagine they show up in their equivalent of Blackhawk helicopters and tricked out Hummers. Yeah, different picture, huh, Junior?

When the full scale retaliatory invasion begins, here’s a glimpse at what your homeland would look like approximately thirty seconds after their initial wave of spacecraft enter our atmosphere:

Take a good, hard look. See that orange stuff? Yeah, that’s fire. Alot of fire and it’s real hot and burny, too. You don’t roast weenies in blazes like that, folks, you roast to DEATH! We’re talking about a global cremation! Every last one of us crisped to ashes within minutes. No time for "we’re sorry" or "please, don’t hurt us we just wanted wanted to advance science so we could figure out how to enslave your people." No time for second opinions, second guesses or second chances. Just brilliant orange flamin’ death.

And that’s why Spielberg will never make a sequel. It’d drone on and on until finally the full-grown E.T.P.’s arrived and torched our homeworld. Everyone would cry, there could be no happy ending and a whole new generation would be scarred for life. However, Hollywood being as it is, they’ll propably try this because those wackjobs never can leave well enough alone. Due to that, I propose a title:

E.T. II: Ain’t Nobody Messes with My Baby!

In an effort to save lives, I’m providing the following resources so you may prepare yourselves, Merry Readers, for an alien holocaust. Study well:

E.T. - Escape from Planet Earth on the Gameboy Color, E.T. - Cosmic Garden on the Gameboy Color, E.T. Digital Planner on the Gameboy Color, E.T. Interplanetary Mission for the PC, E.T. Away from Home for the PC, E.T. Phone Home Adventures for the PC, E.T. The Extra Terrestrial for Gameboy Advance and don’t forget the all time worst game EVER: E.T. The Extra Terrestrial for Atari!

The motto here is: Know Your Enemy. Don’t let ‘em roast our world, people.

Until next time, this has been GlowStormLion, creeping through closets stalking the elusive trophy head of E.T.’s deadly kin and knowing full well not to tempt fate.

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Since yesterday I debuted the very first Terror Track Tuesday (find it HERE), I got to thinking. Obviously I haven’t got enough stress and guilt in my life, so why not heap on a lil more by unveiling a brand new weekly feature that I’ll feel obligated to continue? And that’s what you’re reading now, my pretties. Welcome to the very first Horrorsode (tm!) of the ingeniously titled Monster Laboratory!

What will I be doing each Wednesday? Beautiful question. I need to burn up a few sentences in order to have enough text to make this feel like a full article and keep me from feeling bad that I didn’t review Damien: Omen II, yet, so allow me to delve into my inspiration. I figure we’ve all got a bit of the Freakenstein in us. We all watch monster movies and go, "Hey, I bet I could come up with a cool monster!" Right? Well, I hate to burst your bubble, kids, but none of you have or there’d be alot more relevant results when you google "Monster Laboratory", okay?

That’s why I decided to step up to the plate and grasp my proverbial Louisville slugger of creativity and swing for the cinematic fences. Damn that was a weird analogy. On the off chance that some Hollywood hotshots find our site (stop laughing!), I want to present my creations. I’m not worried about royalties or becoming the next Billy Mays, all I want is the smug sense of satisfaction that I’ll one day feel when I go to a movie and look at all the other suckers packing the theater to see my brainchildren galavant around the silver screen wreaking mass mayhem. That’s the dream - Monster Laboratory spawning cult classics quicker than Warhol’s factory made…. weird stuff.

Anyways. Witness now the birth of the first monster!

What do you mean what is it?? Don’t be a jerk, it’s not a beaver, it’s Butcher Bears ™! We probably all are born with a deep-seated distrust of stuffed animals, dreaming from time to time throughout our childhoods that they’ll finally have had enough and seek vengeance for all the poor care we gave them over their years as we took dump after emotional dump on them when everyone else got sick of hearing our problems. Or maybe it’s just me…

So, yeah I never trusted muppets one bit and I always suspected those smiley gladhand Care Bears had hidden agendas of a far darker nature than they’d readily admit to in public. And Teddy Ruxpin? The only things creepier than that furry android are those crazy monkeys that bang cymbals together. Naturally, my imagination’s thus quite a fertile place for the weeds of evil to sprout and flourish and bear fruit. The fruit called Butcher Bears ™ - Fear Has Fur.

Butcher Bears aren’t your typical teddy, folks. Butcher Bears come from broken homes on the wrong side of the tracks and survived abuse that would make Chuck Norris weep in empathy. Butcher Bears absorbed the childhood dramas of their former slavemasters, sometimes for a decade or more. They heard the stories about how your sister kicked you in the crotch when mom was on the phone and later called you boogerlips. They sat there while you organized your stupid imaginary meetings among wizards with names you totally stole from Harry Potter or Masters of the Universe. They sprawled on the floor helpless after you got bored kicking them around the room and practicing various unimaginative wrestling maneuvers on them. You never cared that they weren’t manufactured with tear ducts and thus were incapable of crying. They’ve had enough of your bull puckey, son. Get ready to die slow.

Now I’m sure you’re going to try and point to Chucky in order to call my idea unoriginal. Guess what? Butcher Bears throw Chucky a blanket party to rival the Piru Bloods, son! Butcher Bears will swarm on you silly cretins cause they do THEIR job. You trip while tryin’ to run from ‘em and they’ll be on you like a pack of ill-tempered Ewoks! As you’ll note in the picture above, they possess amazing dexterity which allows them to hold knives nearly as big as they are. And look into those eyes, will you? Do you see fear there?? Your own, perhaps!

Which leads me to a tip: never make eye contact with a Butcher Bear. The basic rule of thumb when it comes to Butcher Bears is this - if you wouldn’t do it to a van full of heavily tattood Chicanos with shaved heads and handlebar moustaches, don’t do it to a Butcher Bear because each one you actually catch a glimpse of is merely a scout for its crew. Butcher Bears never act alone because they learned from their pint-sized slavemasters. They know if you want to take out big people you’ve got to do it during birthday parties when there aren’t enough parents around to stop you and your friends from having a cake war. Or something along those lines - each Butcher Bear had unique experiences!

And you know what that means, don’t you? Yes! Butcher Bears stand to net more than Pokemon because they appeal to an older audience with far more financial resources at its disposal. I predict (after the first sequel, most likely), a wave of toys from the folks who made the Living Dead Dolls or Garbage Pail Kids. Toys attractive to both children and adults! Of course, since the movies will be rated R kids can’t watch them but GTA’s rated M (for Mature) and you totally know kids are running around with hookers and getting drunk at Comrade’s Bar despite that. Think of the hysteria, the uproar that Butcher Bears will bring. America needs this - the WORLD needs this.

I mean there hasn’t been this much audience building power in a brand since Joe Camel! You got your cute, you got your death. Those are the fundamental elements of grabbing people at a base level. It’d be like if Full House partnered with Friday the 13th. The only people who wouldn’t be watching a show like that never turn switch the channel off of PBS anyways! Admit it, Butcher Bears represent an eventuality. Butcher Bears are web two point oh. Butcher Bears are viral. Butcher Bears mean business for Hasbro, Lucasfilm or whoever’s quick enough to snatch this idea from me and create a merchandising empire. I welcome Troma, Bandai, whoever. Butcher Bears have got to happen because if not we stand to lose a great deal. Like democracy or peace of mind. No one wants that.

Now I understand your first impulse is going to be to put this up on Facebook as you idea or make some kind of YouPube video cartoon thing but let me say this: I will find you. Monster Laboratory means business, punks, and Butcher Bear belongs to us! So like if you decide to rip it, atleast give us a shoutout or something, wouldja? Thanky.

That be it for dis first Monster Laboratory. Store this sweet moment in your little black hearts, my pretties because we just popped Monster Laboratory’s cherry and I don’t care what your friends told you, your virginity doesn’t "grow back if you wait long enough."

(Fine, glittersoul came up with the original idea.)

Take care and thanks for stopping by!

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