The Monsterjunkies An American family Odyssey: "Being a normal Family is a State of Mind"

By Erik Daniel Shein and Theresa A Gates

Another unusual creature has been delivered to the vast estate at 1313 Road to Nowhere in Foggy Point, Maine to add to the collection of odd, rare, or thought to be extinct species. This is a place where the magical is real and the bizarre is normal. Welcome to the Monsterjunkie Manor.
Ah, but all is not well in the quirky, gothic Monsterjunkie world. Outside forces are scheming to rid them from the area while the teens and their friends cope with harassment for being different. Of course, the name itself brings suspicion and rumors about what goes on at this mysterious residence. Will their private world be exposed? And how will Crow Monsterjunkie come to grips with his name, his family legacy, and the masks that people wear to hide their true selves?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483545028

Erik Daniel Shein

Erik Daniel Shein was born Erik Daniel Stoops, November 18th 1966. He is an American writer, and Visionary, film producer, screenwriter, voice actor, animator, entrepreneur, entertainer, and philanthropist, Pet enthusiast and animal health advocate. He is the author and co-authored of over 30 nonfiction and fiction books whose writings include six scientific articles in the field of herpetology. His children’s book, “The Forgotten Ornament” is a Christmas classic, and was endorsed by Hollywood legends Mickey and Jan Rooney.

Book preview

The Maine Gang

Even though he would later become a Schnoggin Knocker, Crow was still a Monsterjunkie. On a secluded wooded road in a gothic mansion near Foggy Point sat Cromwell Monsterjunkie upstairs in his room. He had just pulled out a small detail paintbrush from his pack of six and applied a shiny streak of bright green oil-based paint to his latest Aurora Monster model. High on the shelves above his desk was his collection, originally from the 1960s and 70s, including Frankenstein, the Wolf Man , and the Phantom of the Opera . Even the long boxes they came in were sought-after treasures, measuring 13 by 5 by 2 inches — enough space for the popular full-body artist renditions of the actual models to fit inside the boxes. Crow recalled receiving his first monster from his grandmother at age seven. He was now working on The Creature of the Black Lagoon — his favorite.

The story was one he reveled in, especially because the creature was taller than most men, weighed in at about 300 pounds, and lived primarily in a dark cave near the Amazon. He was a loner, like Crow, in some ways, and picked on for being different. The Creature’s violent actions were really defensive reactions to his natural world being invaded, harassed, and poisoned. The green monster spent his time looking for a mate and retaliating against the men who were destroying his habitat. He feared only the light of the lantern and ended up mortally wounded, returning to the depths — or at least people thought, never to be seen again.

Several miles away in town in front of an old craftsman house at dusk, Todd, Edgar, and Larry stood on the sidewalk with their skateboards in hand. They’d known each other since the 3rd grade. They loved checking out the nearby woods, riding skateboards, and engaging in online gaming. They were also intrigued by the mysteries of the Monsterjunkie mansion.

My mom and dad think a lot of strange things go on there, you know, like animal cloning, weird freaks of nature, that kinda’ thing, Edgar remarked.

Todd, their sandy-haired leader asked, Do you guys think we can get into Monsterjunkie Manor and see what’s really going on? It’s a big place, but I think we could sneak in and check it out. If that huge, prehistoric-looking bird we saw the other day near the beach lives there, they must have some pretty cool stuff.

Larry, the skinny red head, joined in, Yeah, I wonder what that Monsterjunkie kid does there. He’s freaky. And a little scary.

Yeah but his mom is hot! Edgar added.

His sister is not bad either, Todd chimed in but, at that moment, more interested in the macabre nature of the Monsterjunkie property. We need to plan. I have an idea where we can get in and not be spotted. Are you guys with me?

In unison, Larry and Edgar concurred, Let’s do it!

What’s in a Name?

Cromwell, or Crow as he preferred, inherited a soft, sensitive face and jet black hair from both his parents. But, unlike them, his hair was spiked and he wore a silver earring. Crow typically dressed in black clothing, down to his dark suede, laced Creeper shoes.

He despised his name and his parents did not understand. Talon and Pandora Monsterjunkie preferred formality. Nonetheless, his Cromwellian designation was used to tease and harass him at times. It did not help that he was chubby, and liked all things dark and macabre. Crow was not only shorter and heavier than most of the boys in 9th grade but felt isolated and different anyway from the other students. Back in the 7th grade, he even tried paying other kids to be his friends. It worked for a little while.

The association with the Monsterjunkie name brought questions and wary looks based on rumors about what kinds of things went on at the mysterious residence, not to mention the laughs and jokes about Crow being a monster and a junkie. He’d been called everything from Goth Geek and Fat Creeper to Bowling Ball and Dark Shadow. Last year, he got pushed around and kicked out of lines a few times, usually by the same group of ninth grade boys. He never told anyone. It was a relief, in a way, that his parents set firm limits with screen time and that he was not too interested in the online social world anyway. His mom and dad preferred that he spend his days learning about the natural world. Still, Crow fretted. It was difficult to find other kids like him. Somehow it was easier for his older sister, Indigo. She could be chameleon-like when necessary at school. Nevertheless, he also enjoyed a certain protection by keeping others at bay because of his looks.

Crow was not ready for these social pressures as well as the confusing changes in his body. His dad would try to tell him how important it was for him to be his own person, but such words did not connect. He just wanted to be a kid. Unfortunately, he couldn’t ever really relax, always feeling he had to be vigilant and on in order to protect himself from peers.

At this point, he decided he’d rather spend time playing with the monsters up in his perfectly tidy Goth room or the ones on their estate. In fact, they were his only real friends. It was not unusual to find him upstairs in his perfectly precise Goth room, working on his latest Aurora collectibles or out with his most cherished pet: a rare, white raven named Malikai.

He often allowed Malikai into his bedroom, too. Crow wanted to believe the white raven was a messenger from the Great Spirit that he’d read about in Native American mythology, in particular from tribes in the Canadian Pacific Northwest.

His feathered companion had just come to rest on his shoulder this afternoon while Crow roamed the forested areas of the compound. His first stop took him to a doghouse where he greeted Chico, a genuine chupacabra. Chico was hairless, brown, the size of a mid-size dog, and nearly mythical. Yet, the chupacabra was a very real creature who lived in the Mexican highlands. Chico appeared ferocious but was really quite tame and affectionate, especially around Crow. Signaling he was ready to play, Chico let out a muffled, whiny bark and jumped out of this doghouse with a rubber ball already in his mouth. Crow grinned, took the ball, and tossed it deep into the woods. Chico dashed after it and returned shortly, dropping the ball as Crow tossed it one more time before moving on to another part of their vast estate.

He then spotted Francis and Betty, the identical twins who were pituitary giants that Pandora and Talon adopted years ago. Betty and Francis loved to cook and tend to the numerous gardens on the estate. Kneeling down to give him a gentle embrace, Betty noticed Crow’s head downcast as he dragged a stick on the ground behind him, not paying attention to where he was going.

How are you doing today, Cromwell? asked Betty.

I’m alright, I guess.

You seem a little down. Can we help? asked Francis.

Same old, same old. School sucks, just like my life.

Sounds like life is a bit thin right now — not enough fun or interesting friends to do things with, Francis observed.

You deserve a lot more. We know what a great kid you are. Things will change. Just wait, added Betty.

Thanks, I sure hope so. The two women continued down another path towards their garden shed as Crow’s attention shifted to the sound of the repetitive thud of a tennis ball hitting a back board. It was Beauregard, the Sasquatch discovered by Crow’s father in the Canadian wilderness when the primate was less than a year old. Talon found him alone on an isolated lakeshore with no parent anywhere to be seen. Undernourished and weak, Talon took the young Sasquatch to a First Nations tribe nearby, known for protecting endangered and special species. They searched for days for its mother, not sure what to do or how to protect him from media exposure and other possibly harmful human involvement. In a somber state, they agreed it might be best for now for Talon and Pandora to shelter, feed, and care for him on their secluded compound. Talon and his trusty loyal seaplane pilot, Race, flew Beau back to Maine where he would be safe.

As Crow grew, he and Beauregard had also become friends. Beau seemed content living on the Monsterjunkie property. He loved reading, writing poetry, and playing tennis with whomever could withstand his towering overhead smashes and quick, agile moves at the net.

Where’d ya get that cool tennis sweater? Crow asked as he approached the fence around the court. It matches your fur.

Why, thank you, young Crow Master. Your mom ordered it online, I believe, from a big men’s store.

Hah! Crow laughed.

Is that your new doubles partner? Beau inquired playfully, stopping his practice for a moment and focusing his attention on Malikai sitting on Crow’s shoulder. The raven let out an approving squawk.

I wish! He’s much faster than me!

I’ve got something to show you. Join me at my cottage. Beau gathered his tennis gear and lumbered down the stone-lined path with Crow trying to keep up with the Sasquatch’s extra-long strides.

I’ve written a poem in your honor, Beau announced as they entered his living room. Crow looked like a midget in Beau’s stupendous sized pine rocking chair, feet dangling over the seat. Allow me to read it before I hand you the scroll that I made for you.

Wow, Beau, thanks.

Beau uncoiled the parchment paper and began reading the poem to his friend:

Young Cromwell, one best known as Crow. Darkness follows you wherever you go.

Fear not the inky feelings you have inside, the shadows there will not rule nor survive.

The white raven is your truth to its core, an untold love of Nature, like his, you adore.

Like the joyful flight of your white friend, your frayed self can soar to greater ends.

This time of darkness is but a tiny phase, your true self will rise like light above haze.

Choose coming allies and friends with care, with them, fix on hope, then seek and dare.

Crow beamed. That was awesome! I’ll put this in my secret box. Thanks Beau. You’re the best!

Just seeing you smile is thanks enough. Take those words to heart, especially the last two lines. I believe things are about to change for you.

Okay. Thanks again. This . . . this makes my day. Crow scooted off of the extra high rocking chair, reached up and hugged Beau, and said good-bye. As he resumed his stroll he could see something stirring in the enormous tree they called Weird Willow, which stood right in the center of the property. I wonder what’s up with Periwinkle, he asked himself as he approached the base of the tree. At the precise moment he peered up, a large bird dropping fell from the sky, just barely missing him.

He shouted, Periwinkle! Hey! It’s me! Watch it, will ya?

One of his dad’s great discoveries, Periwinkle was found on an isolated Indonesian atoll called Good Enough Island where rumors of pterodactyls existed for decades. This young one was spotted in the mountains, struggling with an injured leg. When Talon returned with her to Maine, Pandora made garlands made of purple and blue periwinkle flowers to put around the young bird’s nest, hence her unique name.

The massive creature sprang up, soared briefly around Weird Willow, and landed on a branch near her nest in front of Crow. With a sheepish look on her face—as sheepish as a pterodactyl could look—she stretched her head toward him so he could stroke her.

He did so while asking, What’s wrong, Peri? Do you have a serious digestive problem? We’ve gotten more than a few complaints, including from Reggie, the postal guy. Ugh, you didn’t change your diet did you? She shook her head no and glanced over at her nest.

Oh my goodness, did you lay an egg? What kind of a bird did you mate with? Crow asked.

She tilted her head up towards the top of the tree where an enormous dodo bird sat content and staring down at his true love. A stupefied Crow asked, That’s the father? They didn’t name this tree Weird Willow for nothing. How will something like that look? Wow! Wait ‘til I tell my mom and dad. Peri squawked and flapped her wings.

Okay, Peri, but be a little more careful where you make your deposits, okay?

She cooed while Crow scratched the side of her head. It’s alright girl. I guess you can’t hold back love — a concept I’m not even close to figuring out.

Mysteries and Monsters

Nervous, Reggie pulled in front of the MJ Manor. He was the unfortunate short straw loser for delivery of mail by the United States Postal Service to this address. Weeks ago, he and several of the other carriers came to a unanimous agreement: The short straw drawn would be the unlucky soul who would have to make all deliveries to the Monsterjunkie mansion. Just so it’s not me was the prevailing attitude among them.

Reggie was that man; in fact, the other guys applauded him for his courage in accepting his fate. But, it was also agreed that when they went out after work, Reggie would never have to pay for his drinks, food, or pool playing at the local pub. Moreover, some of his more skeptical co-workers weren’t sure what might happen once he started making those scary deliveries.

Reggie Orton had an easy sense of humor about him. Originally from New Orleans, he relocated to Maine fifteen years ago to help care for his aging grandmother. He and his wife, Cora, stayed with his grandmother until her death eight years ago, and liked the area enough to remain. In his job, the deliveries to 1313 Road to Nowhere kept him wary, if not curious. He heard rumors from the last mail carrier with that route about eerie sounds on the property, whispers of black magic, and large, unidentified crates to deliver — all shrouded in secrecy. The avenues near the main house, Black Rose Parkway and Sorcerer Avenue, in particular, were also mysterious in their histories. No one knew what was meant by those names. Rumor had it that those addresses were created by Conrad Munsterjung and his wife, Isabella, founders of the enormous estate, back in 1913. They were among the first to inhabit this location near the quaint seaside community of Foggy Point. They named their address 1313 Road to Nowhere in order to deter people from coming to that part of the sound, mostly to protect their unusual animals from hunters, poachers, and other prying eyes. They officially registered the name with the city of Foggy Point but, unbeknownst to them, various urban legends were created to fill in the gaps left by their secretive ways.

From far behind the mansion, a twelve foot high perimeter wall encircled the property next to the Atlantic Ocean. Gargoyles at the entrance stared out from the highest point on the spaced columns and made the wall appear ominous. On the ocean side was a lagoon named Cryptic Bay. Some residents suggested monsters swam there. Near the shore was a dock and small summer bungalow which Talon Monsterjunkie’s grandfather, Conrad, built and named Isabella’s Retreat after his beloved wife. Constructed in 1914 with imported materials from Estonia, Isabella’s childhood home, it included stone masonry, limestone, historic glass windows with Tudor mullions, and green moss growing on slate shingles. Local birds nested around the summer cottage where various climbing vines gently caressed its walls. The bungalow had its own relaxed, lyrical feel about it, as if, when stepping on its cobblestone flooring, one had just opened a very old book and entered an ancient woodland Celtic fairy tale.

One of the special places on the property was Pandora Monsterjunkie’s atrium. She called it Pandora’s Plant Hotel. This warm, lush,

Reviews for The Monsterjunkies An American family Odyssey

[plappen_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is the story of a very unique American family.The Monsterjunkies live in a walled compound on the coast of Maine. Talon, the father, is a crypto-zoologist who specializes in rescuing animal species thought to be extinct, with the intention of returning them to the wild. Pandora is his wife, and their children, daughter Indigo and son Crow are students at the local high school. Because they are "different," both children have been noticed by Rutherford, the school bully. Crow wants the bullying to end, and Indigo wants the family to start being a little more trusting of outsiders. No one is allowed on the property, and the family doesn't talk about it, which leads to the expected rumors of monsters on the property.Indigo invites Winter, a friend from school and a budding artist, for an overnight sleepover, and shows her what is really going on behind the walls. Crow becomes friends with a trio of boys from school who attempt to sneak onto the property to see for themselves. They are stopped by an actual sasquatch, who, they learn later, is intelligent and is named Beauregard. The visitors are also introduced to a pygmy elephant named Thunder who loves marshmallows, and an actual sea serpent named Sybil who can't eat enough squash.At school one day, the group publicly humiliates Rutherford, in front of a bunch of girls. Naturally, he is not going to go away that easily. Does the Monsterjunkie family get "outed" prematurely? Does the bullying stop, once and for all?This is an excellent YA novel. It has a very strong environmental and anti-bullying message. It is a well-done piece of writing that is recommended for all young people (and adults, too).