Not satisfied with delivering such cultural milestones as roller boogie, New Age cults, the Marvel Universe and Ronald Reagan to the world, California has now rolled out a new trend that’s spreading like wildfire: Monster Marriage Counseling.

Started by Dr. Hans Zupp, the counseling service now has a dozen offices, mostly around Hollywood, and business is booming. This reporter was curious as to how the company started and what it entailed.

Your scribe met up with Dr. Zupp at a small Santa Monica café that served only canned foods but with festive decorations backed up by canned sitar music. “How did it occur to you to start this sort of business?” this reporter asked.

Dr. Zupp, who resembled a twitchy adult version of Pugsley Addams, sat spread-legged while chugging down a can of creamed corn, careful as to not get a stray glop of it down below. 

“It was weird,” he snorted. “I had a friend who was a monster maven. He wound up hooking up with a huge blob; a single-celled organism with a huge eye. But, oh, that eye! It had perfect makeup! That ‘come hither’ stare would rival that of a stray Kardashian. It was one sexy eye.”


“One night, my friend was overcome with lust and just dove into the blob. The blob wound up retching up his remnants for days after that. I thought to myself, ‘If only I had been able to reason with him about his relationship before he took the plunge.’ That was the start of it.”

“What happened to the blob?”

“I heard she moved to Arizona and is getting involved in politics.”

Zupp, who had friends in the film business, got a list of monsters that’d married humans and started cold-calling their homes. Before he knew it, he had a few dozen couples that seriously needed help. With many studios wanting to protect their assets from public embarrassment, Zupp was soon able to hire a group of psychologists he coached to take over his various offices.

“It’s just like regular marriage counseling, but much more disgusting,” offered Zupp.

Are there any rules to get into counseling? “Oh, yeah,” he replied. “If you’ve hooked up with anything over 12 feet tall I can’t help you.  Before you tie the knot, think about the bills you’re going to be tied to with home renovation. Just the cost of a custom-made bed will give you a nosebleed.

“Also; avoid things with tendrils. One tender caress will cover you with hickies. Rule of thumb: don’t get involved with monsters covered in slime or are snail-like in any way. You’ll be married not only to a mucky mate but a salt-free diet, as well.”

This reporter could not help but smell the sense of pessimism in the air. It was then Zupp apologized for his flatulence. “Sorry. Onions.”


“Are there no monster marriages that work?” this scribe asked.

“Women and men who are attracted to old school monsters have the best shot,” Zupp revealed. “Your vampires, your werewolves, your man-made monsters like Frankenstein’s, your swamp creatures…things that are vaguely humanoid. You may have your differences, but they can be dealt with.

“If you marry one of Frankenstein’s monsters, you know not to have a big fireplace in the middle of the living room. Keep him inside during lightning storms. Vampires, you just have to adjust your social hours and make deals with the local Red Cross to buy in bulk. Werewolves are kittens for most of the month. When they’re not? Make sure to have a room that’s nothing but a cage. Extra shackles aren’t a bad idea, either.

“I mean, with some of the shambling humanoids, teaching them to dance can be a challenge but, let’s face it, who hasn’t faked their footwork in a waltz?”

He paused, for a moment, and reached into his blazer. He produced a Flamin’ Hot Cheeto. “Do you mind?”

“No, it’s fine.”

Producing a cigarette lighter, he lit the Cheeto. It exploded in flames and covered his face in a rich orange dust. He exhaled. “I love Cheetos. The unfiltered ones.”


Wiping a few smoldering wads of Cheetos from his nostrils, he settled in. “Now, things get tricky with reptilian humanoids. Take the Creature from the Black Lagoon. It was important that he and his human partner find a house with a pool. As long as they stayed in the house, it was perfect.

“If his wife got tired of staying home, she had to pay a pretty penny to construct a reverse wet-suit; a wet suit that would circulate water next to the creature’s skin. He’d, then, don human clothes and go out with his wife.

“Success! Nobody recognized him. But he stank of fish. Always remember: a fish out of water is still a fish. They’d go to the movies. Rows of people around them left because of the fishy smell.

“His wife, bless her heart, ran out and purchased 50 gallons of Old Spice and a garden sprayer. Before their next date, she doused him with Old Spice in a rotating stream. They went to the movies. Rows of people around them left because of the Old Spice smell.”

Did he eventually work things out?

“Oh, yeah. He and the Mrs. opened their own Swimming Academy, which has done really well. They throw their parties there and the creature doesn’t have to wear clothes.”

This correspondent’s brow furrowed, his eyes widened and his buttocks clenched.

“What?” asked Zupp.

“Sorry. Onions.”


We then continued our formal interview. “We’ve been talking about women who marry monsters. What about guys?”

“Men are actually a lot more patient with their alien mates. There are over 200 marriages in L.A. to guys who courted the Cat Women of the Moon. The women all looked like beauty queens and prowled around in leotards. And, once their husbands got used to them sneaking out at night and bringing back a ‘love gift’ of a dead rat or possum, their marriages thrived.

“The guys who marry women who transform into monsters, they begin to really like it after a while. When the Mrs. is into monster mode, the Mr. crashes at a friend’s place binging a show, or goes bowling or just sleeps in the car listening to Golden Oldies. What’s to fret about? You’re married to the hottest woman monster around!”

This newsman smiled, thinking about all the monsters and their mates who would live their lives out together because of the work of Dr. Hans Zupp. “What about you, Dr.? Have you ever married a monster?”

“Oh, no,” he blushed. “I’m a confirmed bachelor. Although…”


“I’ve been having an online relationship with someone I might spend the Christmas Holidays with.”

“Who is she? Where does she live?”

“Her name is Bubbles. She lives in Arizona. She’s getting into politics. And she has the sexiest eyes…although I’ve only seen one.”

This correspondent pushed the microphone closer to Zupp. “One last question.”


“May I have the names and phone numbers of your next of kin?”

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  1. I’d like marry a monster to do the monster mash with. I checked all the bars and night clubs for some but none were there. I guess I got to go looking in the swamps and sewers to find where they socialize


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