Dr Frankenstein could no longer pretend;
His experiments had come to a dead end,
He railed at the thunderstorm, he cursed his luck
Till came a puff of smoke as a lightning bolt struck.
Slowly from the slab his prized creature rose,
In those coal black eyes something darkly glows,
There’s a sad recognition that he is one butt-ugly soul,
A melange of random bits and pieces making up a whole.
He saw he looked like a reject from the Twilight Zone,
He had no wish to spend his second life all on his own,
He gently sat the the Doc down, told him what was on his mind,
Strongly impressing on him how he felt being but one of a kind.
The monster requested the Doc make him a mate,
Toss in a few X chromosomes into the ol’ template,
Reluctantly, the Doctor took up needle and thread-
His second stitch-up left his first darn effort for dead!
For the good Doctor had learnt a great deal,
Now he could spend time on aesthetic appeal,
That original prototype did look desperately grim,
Rugged and rough-hewn would best describe him.
Working both night and day-
All bloody work and no play-
In a week he’d put her together-
Time to wait- for stormy weather.
Finally came a thunderous storm,
Lightning lit her wondrous form,
Impatiently the monster waited
As his beauty became animated.
The Doc had fashioned her such a pretty face,
The creature felt his second-hand heart race,
And his beastly heart was completely captured,
The Docs fine body of work left him enraptured.
But his bride-to-be was less than impressed,
She saw him and nearly had a cardiac arrest,
From her sweet lips came a long ululating scream;
The Doctor knew they’d never make a dream team.
After hearing her shrill dismissive shriek
The monster flounces off in a fit of pique,
How that poor forsaken brutes broken heart aches,
And all the Doc says is ‘oh well, we all make mistakes.’