Free A Wild Ride Through The Night by Walter Moers Page A

struck a knightly pose.
    ‘Are you the Most Monstrous of All Monsters?’ he asked firmly.
    Some crunching, sucking noises emanated from the shadows at the foot of the wall. A few tentacles withdrew and reappeared through cracks elsewhere. The huge death’s-head rose and fell in an unnatural way, like a carnival mask bobbing on the end of a stick. ‘The Most Monstrous of All Monsters?’ repeated the monster. ‘Yes, I suppose I am …’ It paused for effect before continuing: ‘Or used to be, long, long ago …’
    It paused again, seemingly afraid to utter the next words. ‘But then another monster came along. Well, it had always been there in reality, but the longer it existed the more monstrous it became. No, the most I am is the Second Most Monstrous of All Monsters. My name is Anxiety.’ The monster bowed its head and followed up its statement with another deep sigh like the wheezing of a decrepit pair of bellows.
    ‘Never fear,’ it went on without waiting for a response, ‘I won’t accuse you of being tactless for asking such a direct question. Milk can turn sour at the very sight of me, I know. I nearly fainted once, when I caught sight of my reflection in a pool of water—and I was considerably more attractive then than I am now.’
    The monster groaned at the recollection. ‘You’re bound to be wondering what’s so awful about anxiety, right?’
    ‘Er, yes,’ said Gustave. Although it wasn’t true (he was far too agitated to wonder about anything), he thought it wisest to agree with the monster on principle.
    ‘People take me for granted—that’s one of my most disastrous characteristics.’ The monster gave a hollow laugh. Stone grated on stone as if the creature were bracing itself against the wall with all its might.
    ‘Look around you and see how effective I’ve been. I’ve ravaged this place for many years—ravaged it good and proper. I devour men, women and children regardless of their social class and personal character. I’m ruthless and relentless, cold-blooded and implacable. In short, I’m a servant of Death—one of the best, what’s more.’
    Gustave pricked up his ears. ‘You’re a servant of Death?’
    ‘Aren’t we all?’ Brushing aside his question with a tentacular gesture expressive of boredom, the monster continued its self-revelation. ‘In the end, I grew a little weary one day and decided to lean against this wall—only for a moment.’
    The skull gave a deep, dry cough.
    ‘Well, as you can see, I’m still here many, many years later, so something
crucial
must have happened to me in the meantime, mustn’t it?’
    Gustave nodded, but this time not just for courtesy’s sake. He was genuinely interested to see what the monster was leading up to.
    ‘I’d begun to
worry
! I’d begun to question the meaning of my existence! Can you imagine? The fact is,
Anxiety was beginning to worry!
Not a particularly clever career move, my boy, I see that now, because it was then that I lost my pre-eminent status as the Most Monstrous of All Monsters.’
    ‘But isn’t a touch of self-doubt a good thing at times?’ Gustave asked, just to keep the conversational ball rolling.
    ‘Doubt?’ exclaimed the monster. ‘I’m not talking about a healthy dose of scepticism, my young friend! No, I didn’t
doubt
, I
worried
, and they’re as different as … as thinking and dreaming. I started to worry about everything, absolutely everything! I worry about my health, about the future, about the present—even about the past, which is a particularly futile occupation.’
    The death’s-head emitted a rattling laugh. ‘Yes, I started worrying, and that has made me what you see today: dead, dried-up timber, bone, horn, stone, teeth without nerves, eye sockets devoid of eyes.’ The monster threw up its wooden tentacles in despair. They trembled pitifully, outlined against the night sky, then collapsed and dangled there inert. The spider came crawling back up the wall and