Look Out, Beautiful Beast!
A Himbeau Daydream
“Let me IN!” I scream. I’m standing outside a giant castle. Again. The fact this keeps happening is both a blessing a curse. Castles RULE (get it) but they also tend to not have modern appliances which is WAY more awful than you’d think. But bein in a castle is better than bein out in the cold. I’m pretty sure King Arthur said that.
The giant wooden door creaks open and there’s a tiny clock standing there. “Nn-Good evening, sir,” it says.
“Oh, I know this one,” I mutter. “Where is the candle guy?”
“Bonjour!” The golden candelabra bows from a nook just inside the corridor.
I shake my head disdainfully. “It’s nighttime monsieur, you shouldn’t say bonjour.” The little clock snickers and the candlestick glares at him.
“Well,” he says snootily, “if you are going to be our guest…”
I hold up a hand and sigh loudly. “That’s the most overrated song in the whole show.” The little clock guy titters. What a great clock. “They shoulda let you sing more, Cogsy,” I tell him.
He bows with great dignity. “Mm thank you, sir.” The candelabra crosses his arms and sulks.
“Alright fellas, let’s cut to the chase.” I rub my hands together. “Where’s the big guy? The den? The dining room?” I snap my fingers. “The west wing?”
“Right this way, sir,” the clock says, gesturing at the stairs.
“You guys ever watch the hit television drama, The West Wing? Martin Sheen is President Bartlet with a cast of all-stars. Rob Lowe! Allison Janney! Bradley Whitford...though he was much better as a villain in Billy Madison in my op--”
I suddenly see a big shadow looming over the bannister. It’s a minor mountain just barely visible in the blackness. save for its shining eyes. “Oh hey, buddy!” I yell waving cheerfully.
A low growl crescendos into a roar as the monster clears the bannister from a standstill and lands in front of us on the stairs. He bellows mightily.
“Sheesh,” I grumble when he finishes. “Have an Altoid or something.”
“YOU ARE TRESSPASSING!” the beast man shouts.
“M-m-master, forgive me, I--” the clock stammers.
“Cogsy, chill, I got this,” I say, patting him on his little head. “Look, beasty, the title card here says it all.” I hold it up for him so he can read. “See, it says Beau and the Beast.” I grin at him. “Must be a buddy cop film this time. You’re obviously the disgruntled veteran just weeks from retirement and I’m the loose cannon here to help you rediscover your zest for life.”
The beast blinks at me, stupefied. He’s so good at this role.
“Oh dear,” the clock says as he takes the title card. “I can see the mistake.” He holds it up and points. “See, you can tell by the markings here, someone has removed the ty from the title.”
I frown. “What a weird way to spell Bode,” I say.
The clock clears his throat. “I believe it’s to read Beauty, sir.”
I look from the title card to the beast and back. “Ohhh, I get it,” I say. “This is supposed to be a romcom!” I scratch my chin. “Though if you really think about it, aren’t all buddy cop films basically just romcoms?”
“SILENCE!” the beast bellows. I want to be offended but I can see the pain in his eyes, so I let it slide.
I pat him on the shoulder. “Cheer up, big guy, I’m a great wingman. We’ll help you get the girl.” I rub my hands together again. “Where do we start?”
The beast glares down at me for a second before his face falls and his shoulders slump. “She’ll never go for it,” he says sadly. “Look at me.”
I blink at him. “Dude what? You look awesome. You’re like a buffalo mixed with a bear. You’re like 8’5” and 750lbs of, well, beast. I’m a little jealous.”
“She was here, but she ran away,” the beast said as if I hadn’t spoken. “The curse is permanent after my twenty-first birthday.” I shrug at him and he clarifies. “That’s tomorrow.”
“Oh boy,” I sigh, and scratch my forehead. “Well we have our work cut out for us then.” I pull out my handy dandy notebook. “Get me up to speed.”
“Well,” the beast begins. “I bench press four thousand pounds and I have this really sweet castle. I ordered her around. Women love all that stuff.”
“Dude what? Have you been watching manosphere content? Girls don’t like that stuff.”
“What do they like then, smarty pants?” the beast growls.
“Cheese,” the candlestick interjects. “Swanky accents.”
“Books!” the clock adds, and I’m a little annoyed
“You guys.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “While girls do like treats,” I point at the candle, “and to be left the heck alone so they can read their love stories” I point at the clock. “They really just like to be treated like—”
“Like queens?” the beast says, brightening hopefully.
“Like equals,” I finish, growing surly. “And let me tell you, you are not behaving like a king.” The beast looks furious. “Oh stop, you’re being kind of a jerk and you know it.”
“How do we fix zis?” the candle guy says hopelessly.
“Beastie, go get your cloak,” I say. “We are going into town.”
A few minutes later, we are out in the gloomy courtyard in front of the Beast’s castle. He summons a creepy looking carriage. It moves like a big spider. “Okay, another idea: get a proper carriage with some horses.”
“Because girls like horses?” the beast says like he’s catching on.
I sigh loudly. “Everyone likes horses! Stop trying to manipulate women into liking you with possessions.” We climb onto the carriage and it whisks us towards the provincial village. “Can I ask you something? We’re in France right? How come only the candlestick has a French accent?”
The beast shifts uncomfortably. “Well the feather duster too....”
I shake my head. “You barely see her ever. Also, how come the English teapot has a son with an American accent? What is going on? Are we even in France?”
The beast clears his throat loudly. “Oh look, we’re here.” He exits the carriage and by instinct skulks in the shadows.
“Hmmm,” I wonder around a frown. We’ll have to get back to that. We can hear singing from a nearby tavern.
“Let’s go check it out!” the beast says excitedly.
“Dude she’s not gonna be in there,” I complain.
“It’ll only be for a minute,” the beast says and I can see he’s positively entranced. I sigh. Inside, there’s a bunch of dudes singing about how great this other guy is. “He’s roughly the size of a barge!” the beast mutters with something like awe.
I roll my eyes. “So what. You’re half bear! Also he’s bragging about how hairy he is. You’re way hairier.” I can see the beast thinking this is someone to emulate. “He’s definitely someone who spends too much time watching Youtube. Or worse, probably has a channel about himself.”
“He’s so popular!” the beast says back.
“Yeah...with other men. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
“Well what about those three triplets?” the beast grumbles. “They’re cute!”
I roll my eyes. I’m suspicious of the girls and their intentions, but it’s not my place to judge. “Okay, so there are a few, but there are way more men talking about how awesome he is.” I look around the room. “Besides, your girl isn’t here, so she obviously isn’t into this.”
The beast also looks around. “You sure?” and I can see he hopes to find her for the wrong reason.
“Dude, this guy is an obvious villain character.” A spittoon dings on his hilarious but idiotic sidekick’s head. “Look, he’s expectorating. That isn’t a good habit to develop. Trust me.” I throw a hand out with disgust. “See, he’s bragging about eating five dozen eggs. Big deal.” I slap the beast’s shoulder. “I bet you can eat five gross eggs.” I snicker. “Get it because a gross is twelve dozen.”
“I know what a gross is,” the beast says but I suspect he didn’t. Yeah he’s obviously been spending too much time in his basement...sorry, dungeon...watching youtube instead of in that library. “I’m gonna challenge him to an eating contest!”
“Beast, man, no don’t—”
It’s too late. “HEY! I BET I CAN EAT FIVE GROSS EGGS!” The beast yells. I cover my face.
The singing stops and the burly influencer guy says, “Who wants to eat gross eggs? That’s stupid.”
Beast is careful to keep his cowl in place. “Nuh-uh! They’re loaded with protein.” I can hear him smiling even if I can’t see him. “What’s wrong, are you too much of a kitty to take me on?” Except he didn’t say ‘kitty’; he said a far ruder word. I sigh and back out of the tavern slowly.
I can hear all the foolish men inside chanting as I cross the street to the bookshop. A single light is on inside and I step in.
A lovely brunette is sitting there, she looks up excitedly before her face falls. “I thought you were the bookseller.”
I shake my head. “Nah, just trying to get away from the idiots across the street.”
“Tell me about it,” the beauty says.
I laugh but then get an idea. “Hey can I ask you something?”
She frowns and says, “Well, I’m really just trying to eat this cheese and read my book.”
“Oh is that the one where she finds out he’s Prince Charming in chapter three?”
She sighs loudly and puts the book down. “Is this about the most underrated song in the show?”
I shake my head vigorously. “No.” It’s a good question though, but I’m determined not to get sidetracked. “So…we’re in France right? How come literally no one has a French accent? What is this town hiding? Is this like an M. Night Shyamalan’s the Village situation?”
“You are such a strange little man,” the beauty says with a furrow in her brows.
“Women are always saying that to me,” I sigh.
“Excuse me?” she says.
I rally. “My money is on that barge sized guy being up to something.”
She blows out a breath. “You mean Gaston? No he’s too much of an idiot for anything like that.”
“Ohh, that’s what Gaston is? That’s his name? I just thought it was a nonsense word to make for a good song. Not the best song but…oh man, haha, French names are so funny.” Oops that doesn’t go over so well so I quickly change the subject. “You don’t like him?”
She’s picked up her book and I can sense she’s about to kick me out. “I hate him. He doesn’t read.” She pauses and looks at me. “There was this one guy I liked who reads…I think…but he’s been a real jerk to me lately. Why are guys like that?”
I shake my head and I sit on a chair backwards. She makes a strange face that looks regretful. “That sounds like my new friend. He’s a literal beast.”
The beauty perks up. “You know the beast?”
“Yeah, I get the sense he’s pretty cool underneath his gruff exterior…hey wait a minute, is the BEAST your beau?” She blushes and I cackle. “Ha! That’s awesome. Look, you gotta give him another chance.”
“Why should I?”
“Because he’s pretty insecure about his looks and we don’t teach young men how to deal with that very well so they tend to lash out at people they care about. I know, it’s not fair, but give me a few hours and I’ll talk some sense into him. Only….” I look around for a clock. Shoot. I wish Cogsy had come with us. “Only ya gotta fall in love with him before dawn or he’s gonna stay a beast forever.”
“He will?” She seems oddly excited about it.
“You seem oddly excited about that,” I say.
She blushes a deeper shade of red and bites the tip of her finger. She holds up her book. It’s got a picture of a scantily clad Minotaur on it. I get it. “Oh wow this is perfect. I’ll straighten him out tonight and you come by in the morning to make up with him. And boom. Tale as old as time.” That’s a pretty sweet intro to a song but…it’s a little too mainstream….
“Why are you helping me,” she says suspiciously, derailing my train of thought.
I nod at the bookmark she’s using, the letters TY. “You’ve made me the main character it seems.” She blushes again and I wink at her. “Don’t worry. I got this. Trust me.”
As I step outside the book shop, the beast rushes out of the tavern. He quickly closes the door, and holds it closed with a sheepish grin on his face. It’s eerily quiet.
“Hey man, what happened to the eating contest?”
“Uhh, everyone had to go home.” He growls nervously.
“Okay but did you win?” I try to peek into one of the windows and he moves to block my line of sight.
“Oh, yeah, totally, I definitely won. No doubt about that. We made a bit of a mess though. Don’t worry about it.”
He’s acting kinda strange but then again, he’s a strange guy. “Oh well. Cmon, we gotta get back to the castle. I got some real good news about your girl.”
“Really?” The beast asks hopefully.
“Yeah,” I say as we climb on to the super creepy spider carriage. “You may not like it, but she doesn’t want you to break your curse.”
“WHAT?” He roars.
“Dude, calm down. I told you. You just need to be comfortable and confident in your own skin. Plus…she’s…ya know.” I nudge him with an elbow. He shakes his head with confusion. I sigh. I don’t really wanna say it. I beckon for him to lean closer and whisper it into his ear.
“What’s a ‘monster trucker’?” The beast says embarrassingly loudly.
I groan and cover my eyes with my hands.
Back in the beast’s castle, we are in his beautiful ballroom. For some reason, even though the rest of the castle has been corrupted by his curse, the ballroom has not. “It’s part of the plot,” the nanny teapot explains, “so we can have a beautiful dance sequence. It’s time,” she insists.
So this buxom armoire has given me a super wicked awesome yellow tuxedo that makes me look like I am the CEO of Bananas. The beast is in a very fancy blue coat.
“All I know is the waltz,” the beast says.
“Yeah we’re not doing that,” I say and begin wracking my brain for a better dance scene. Electric slide? Cupid shuffle? Definitely not the cha-cha slide. I can’t do Gangnam Style… “I got it. We’re gonna whip and nae nae. Is there a boombox servant here?” Cogsy brings up the beast’s laptop, instead.
“Aw man, my tabs,” the Beast says when he realizes the clock has swept his browser history.
“It’s for the best, Master,” the clock says morosely as he presses play. The ball room fills with the unmistakable music of Watch Me and I begin taking the beast through the motions. It’s surprisingly hard to teach him that “break your legs” doesn’t mean literally.
He’s almost got it figured out when the beauty bursts in. There’s a record scratch as she rushes in screaming. She’s white as a sheet. “I was just…” she pants. “I just looked in the tavern and everyone was…” she shakes her head and sobs. “Everyone was…dead! Ripper apart!”
“What?” I gasp and I can see the beast shaking his head furiously and drawing a line across his throat. My eyes go wide. “Excuse us for a second. Mrs. Teapot can you make the lady some tea?”
I meet the beast outside of earshot. “Dude you killed everyone?”
The beast looks away. “They kept calling me beta boy.” He glares. “Even after I ate all those eggs.”
“That’s pretty much the worst reason for murder!”
He gives me an embarrassed grin. “Consider it my rejection of toxic masculinity?”
“Ugh, those guys did suck pretty hard, and I’m not keen on killing being a good metaphor for this, but I suppose it can’t be helped. You gotta promise you will never do it again.”
“Yeah sure,” the beast says.
“Beasty, you gotta say it like you mean it.” I point at the beauty. “For her.”
“Yes I promise,” he says a little more emphatically.
“Attaboy. Now, what did we go over?”
The beast sighs but repeats the mantra I taught him. “Listen, validate, respect.” He gives me a hesitant look. “You sure this will work?”
I shrug. “One of us got cursed for being a douchebag to an enchantress and it wasn’t me.”
The beast nods and starts to go to his girl. He stops, “wait, what do I tell her about…ya know?” He makes a ripping motion with his hands.
Right. “It’s what, like 1760 or something? Blame the English. She’ll probably accept that.”
The beast thumbs me up and walks over to the beauty. He begins speaking to her in a low voice. I can’t hear, but after a few minutes, she laughs lightly and touches his arm.
The clock has appeared by my side. “I think they’re gonna make it,” I say to him.
“You realize,” the clock says, “you have doomed us all to be trapped as furniture forever?”
I blink. “What?”
The clock brandishes a small pistol. “You have ten seconds to get the heck out of my castle.” Except be didn’t say heck, he said the H-E-double-hockeysticks word.
The next morning I am sitting in town writing a letter. “Dear Michelle Branch, you won’t believe what has happened to me these last few days. I’ve been on a quest to find you a great underrated song to cover without much luck but—”
I’m interrupted by a strange man. “Bonjour monsieur,” he says, doffing a cap. “Pray, you look like a wise fellow.”
“What is with all the accents here?” I wonder under my breath. But I smile at rhe guy. “How can I help you?”
“I am wondering, good sir, if you needed to dispatch a tyrannical monarch, what would you do?”
I lean back. “This is easy. Guillotine?” He asks what that is so I draw it for him on one of my sheets of paper. “You put the neck here and then…WHUMP!”
His eyes brighten considerably. “This is brilliant Monsieur. Perfect, I dare say.” He looks around. “Have you visited the castle nearby? Steer clear. I hear the princeling there is responsible for the carnage at the tavern.”
I clear my throat. “No no, I’m certain it was the English.”
The man shakes his head. “Ah, oui, of course. It was the English aristocracy who must be punished. Not our own.” He winks. “May I use your ideas someday?”
I shrug. “It’s a free country.”
He beams. “Not yet it isn’t.”
The baker hollers over at us, “Monsieur Robespierre, your bread is ready!” My strange new friend doffs his cap again and scuttles off.
And they call me a strange little man. I sense there’s Something There that Wasn’t There Before. Wait! That’s it! I start my letter over. “Dear Michelle Branch, I have a very underrated song for you to cover next….”
These audios slay! I love Himbeau daydreams 😂😍
Loved it! Hilarious!