Frankenstein - According to

to gain from Frankenstein the particulars of his creature's
formation — where he got the bits.
    'Are
you mad, my friend?' said he. 'Whither does your senseless curiosity lead you?
Is it to the monster's balls which I intend to explode?'
    Thus
had a week passed away, but he had not. Frankenstein discovered that I made
notes concerning his history; he played them back to me on his violin. I have
listened to the strangest tale that ever imagination formed; much more
frightening than Midsummer Night's Dream. To soothe him, I drained an
entire bottle of brandy down his throat which seemed to relax him. In fact, it
relaxed him to the point where he couldn't get out of bed. He talks of beings
who visit him from regions of a remote world. They are all a bit loony.
    'When
younger,' said he, 'I believed myself destined for some great enterprise, like
a shareholder in Lloyds. My imagination was vivid, yet my powers of analysis
and application were intense. I had conceived the idea, and executed the
creation, of a man who would strangle people. I wasn't very pleased with that —
or the people he strangled.
     
     
    September
5th, 17—.
     
    My
beloved sister,
    We
are surrounded by mountains of ice; the cold is excessive. Many of my
unfortunate comrades have already found a grave. They go frozen stiff, so we
cast them over the side. Frankenstein has daily declined in health. Three times
in the last week he has nearly died. He suddenly has feverish fire in his eyes;
but he is exhausted, and when suddenly roused to any exertion he speedily sinks
again into apparent lifelessness. We throw buckets of water over him.
    The
ship is immured in ice, we are all shit scared and the crew want to mutiny.
When Frankenstein heard this he addressed them with a courageous speech. He
encouraged them to be brave and that their hearts be strong and their spirits
become heroic. With that he sang 'God Save the Queen'.
    He
was willing to risk the lives of every sailor in an endeavour to catch his
monster. What a prick! The leader of the sailors said that Frankenstein was a
cunt: 'Listen to him and we'll all fucking snuff it.'
    My
chief intention was occupied by my unfortunate guest, a more unfortunate guest
I've yet to have, whose illness increases by degrees and he is entirely
confined to his bed and needs a po, but his aim was so appalling that urine
went everywhere except in the chamber.
     
     
    September
7th, 17—.
     
    The
die is cast; I have consented to return — if we are not first destroyed.
     
     
    September
12th, 17—.
     
    There
was a shout of tumultuous joy. Frankenstein asked what the shout was. 'They
shout,' I said, 'because they will soon return to England.'
    'Do
you really return?'
    'Alas!
yes. I cannot withstand their demands. I cannot lead them unwillingly to
danger, and I must return. They have threatened me with fifty lashes, then
being hung from the yardarm, keelhauled and made to walk the plank and swallow
the anchor; fuck that.'
    'You
may give up your purpose, but mine is assigned to me by Heaven.' Shouting this,
he sprang from his bed straight into the po, but the exertion was too much for
him. He fell back and fainted, the silly sod.
    At
length, he opened his eyes; he breathed with difficulty. In the meantime, he
told me he had not many hours to live. Quickly, I telegraphed an insurance
policy on his life with Lloyds.
    To
make life difficult, Frankenstein revived. I waited patiently for him to die
again but, alas, he raved on endlessly about the monster. At length, exhausted
by his effort, he sunk into silence. About half an hour afterwards, he
attempted again to speak, but he wasn't very clear.
    Margaret,
what comment can I make on the untimely extinction of this glorious spirit?
What can I say that will enable you to understand the depth of my sorrow?
Unfortunately, all he has left behind is a cabin reeking of stale urine.
    Great
God! what a scene has just taken place! I entered the cabin where lay my
ill-fated friend. Over him hung a form which I cannot find words to describe:
gigantic in stature, yet uncouth and distorted. As he hung over Frankenstein,
he heard the sound of my approach; he sprang towards the porthole and got stuck
half way. I called on him to stay for beans on toast and Horlicks.
    He
paused, turning towards the immobile form of his creator. He seemed to forget
my presence; in return I forgot his. His voice seemed suffocated: 'I did — did
it, uuh, I deaded him, your missus. I am saying sorry,