Frankenstein - According to

felt her after she died and
she felt innocent after she died. William and Justine were assassinated and the
monster walks free, smoking fifty fags a day and God help the man who doesn’t
give them to him.’
    ‘I
would not change places with such a wretch,’ she said.
    ‘Well
you certainly couldn’t change places with him. You would need to be five feet
taller and ten stone heavier.’
    Elizabeth
read my anguish in my countenance and kindly taking my hand threw it on the
floor. She was so elegant it abolished any thought of using that one-eyed
trouser snake.
    Ah,
the wounded deer dragging its fainting limbs to some untrodden brake, there to
gaze upon the arrow which had pierced it and left it to die. Ah, if only a
bowman would shoot an arrow into my leg, I could find an untrodden brake and,
gazing at the arrow, die. [What a lot of bollocks! Ed.]
    The
high and snowy mountains were its immediate boundaries; but I saw no more
ruined castles and fertile fields — only quite a few McDonald’s. Immense
glaciers approached the road from which I ran like fuck. I heard the rumbling
thunder of the falling avalanche as it moved our house five hundred yards down
the hill.
    A
tingling, long-lost sense of pleasure often came across me during the journey,
as did some young woman who also came across. The very winds whispered in
soothing accents — French, Italian, German and, believe !t or not, Swahili. I
spurred on my mule, striving to forget the world, my fears and my overdraft.
Suddenly, as I was forgetting the world, my mule threw me and kicked me ln the
balls which swelled up like water melons and I had to carry them around in a
wheelbarrow. The animal was trying to tell me something. Listening to the
rushing of the Arve, which pursued its noisy way beneath, the same lulling sounds
acted as a lullaby. I felt it as sleep crept over ne as I, the mule and my
swollen balls were down by the raging torrent.

 
    We
rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.
    We
rise; one wand’ring though pollutes the day.
    We
feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep.
    Three
cheers, hip hip hooray.
    It
is the same for be it joy or sorrow,
    The
path of its departure still is free.
    Man’s
yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow;
    Hi
diddle diddle dee.
     

CHAPTER
II
     
     
    I
spent the following day roaming through the valley. I stood beside the source
of the Arveiron. The glacier with the slow pace is advancing down from the
summit to barricade the valley and cut all the poor buggers off from the other
side. The abrupt sides of the mountains were before me, but turning round suddenly
they ended up behind me. The glorious Nature was broken only by the brawling
waves, and from somewhere there came the sound of someone being sick. The
thunder of the sound of a million tons of avalanche afforded me the greatest
consolation. All I needed to cheer me up was a million tons of ice crashing
down. The unstained snowy mountain top, the giant Alps — indeed all I need to
make me sleep was the Swiss Alps and Mont Blancmange.
    Where
had they fled when the next morning I awoke? They had not fled anywhere. They
were all still there. In fact, I need not have gone to sleep at all.
    The
next day my mule had its back legs shackled together to protect my balls. I
resolved to ascend to the summit of Montanvert. I said to my groom, I resolve
to ascend to the summit of Montanvert.
    He
said, ‘What you do is your business.’
    The
ascent revealed a scene terrifically desolate. In a thousand spots the traces
of the winter avalanche may be perceived. Actually, I myself came out in a
thousand spots and I was treated for youth’s acne. The path, as you ascend
higher, is intersected by ravines of snow, down which stones continually roll
from above, crashing down on people’s heads below. In fact, there was a whole
generation of people with lumps on their heads. Apparently the lumps went
through the families. The rain poured down from a dark sky and added to the
melancholy impression. I myself could do a melancholy impression — the
Hunchback of Notre Catford and the Hunchback of Marie Antoinette on the
Gallows.
    The
field of ice is almost a league in width, but I spent nearly two hours falling
down and getting up it. [Dear reader, I have a feeling he’s going to meet the
monster! Ed.] My heart which was before sorrowful, now swelled with something
like joy. Actually, it was a mild coronary.
    Suddenly
nothing happened, but it happened suddenly. Mark you, I beheld