Mary Shelley tells the tale of a brilliant young researcher, whose arrogance leads him to pursue a deadly ambition—the creation of a Frankenstein!
Mary Shelley tells her Midnight Pals a chilling tale about a brilliant young researcher, Victor, whose arrogance leads him to pursue a deadly ambition. The experiment has been attempted by generations of mad scientists, but never successfully accomplished: the creation of a Frankenstein! Stephen King gets pedantic about terminology.
Content notes: swearing, raised voices, violence, gore, death including the murder of a child, mention of strangulation.
CAST
with
Episode written and produced by Robin Johnson, loosely based on Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and its various adaptations. Script edited by Bitter Karella. Music by Robin Johnson. Daisy McNamara was an audio consultant. Material based on existing works is used for parody and comment.
Mary Shelley's Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus is often cited as the first science fiction novel and is certainly one of the most important and influential horror novels ever written. Shelley wrote it at the age of 18 (THAT'S LESS THAN 19) as part of a ghost-story writing competition with her pals. It has been adapted to stage and screen countless times, perhaps most notably in James Whale's 1931 film adaptation starring Boris Karloff as the trope-codifying flat-headed monster. The original novel is in the public domain and can be found on Project Gutenberg at https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41445
A transcript of this episode can be found at https://midnight-pals.simplecast.com/episodes/s01e01-the-tale-of-the-frankenstein/transcript
The Midnight Pals is the creation of Bitter Karella ©
Subscribe to Submitted for the Approval of the Midnight Pals on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Pocket Cast, or wherever you find podcasts. For more information, see https://midnightpals.com
[INTRO MUSIC: A PIECE IN 3/4 TIME ON PIPE ORGAN AND MARIMBA, BASED AROUND TWELVE CHIMES OF A CHURCH BELL.]
VOICEOVER (RODRIGO BORGES): Submitted for the Approval of the Midnight Pals, created by Bitter Karella.
[FADE IN FOREST NIGHTTIME AMBIENCE—WIND IN TREES, CRICKETS CHIRPING. OWL HOOTS.
FOOTSTEPS APPROACH.]
EDGAR ALLAN POE (RODRIGO): Hey, Howard. Early again.
HP LOVECRAFT (ROBIN JOHNSON): Uh, no, actually, I was on time. I tried to start the campfire, but, uh...
POE: What a mess. Here, let me try.
[WOODEN BONKS. FIRE BEING LIT. FIRE CRACKLE CONTINUES THROUGH ALL CAMPFIRE SCENES.
MORE FOOTSTEPS.]
STEPHEN KING (JASON ROBINSON): Hey, guys.
LOVECRAFT: Hey, Steve. (WITH SOME DISLIKE) Clive.
CLIVE BARKER (SISTER INDICA): Heyyy!
LOVECRAFT: Wait, where’s Dean? Steve, weren't you bringing him?
KING: Oh dang, where's he got to? (CALLING) Dean! (OFF) Deaner!
[RUSTLE OF BUSHES.]
DEAN KOONTZ (WREN MONTGOMERY): (EXCITED GIGGLE) Here I am!
KING: I told you to hold on to my hand. These woods can be dangerous if you get lost.
LOVECRAFT: Who's telling a story tonight? I-I could do the Tale of the Eldritch Abomination.
BARKER: Or I could do the Tale of the Horny Ghost.
POE: What, again?
LOVECRAFT: No. A different eldritch abomination.
BARKER: (SIMULTANEOUSLY) No. A different horny ghost.
KOONTZ: I don't like Howard's stories.
LOVECRAFT: What's wrong with my stories, Dean?
KOONTZ: (AS IF RECITING) The... eldritch abominations clearly represent... the author's prejudices and fear of cultural change in a world that is becoming more... e-eagle-itarian.
LOVECRAFT: Clive taught him to say that.
BARKER: (INNOCENTLY) I would never!
KOONTZ: Did I say it right, Clive?
BARKER: (LAUGHS)
LOVECRAFT: You know what, I'm gonna tell my story anyway. (QUICKLY) Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this story—
[FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING.]
MARY SHELLEY (REBECCA D’SOUZA): Sup, fuckers.
LOVECRAFT: —I call this story—
SHELLEY: I got a story for you tonight.
LOVECRAFT: Hey, I already started my story.
KING: Actually, Howard, you didn't throw the midnight dust yet, so technically—
LOVECRAFT: I was just about to! Dean distracted me with that whole egalitarian spiel!
SHELLEY: Oh, well, we can all listen to Squidward’s story, if you lot really want to.
[AWKWARD SILENCE. OWL HOOTS.]
POE: Let's hear Mary's story this evening.
SHELLEY: Thanks. Right, listen up, fuckers—
KING: Hang on, Mary. You know you have to start with the proper words.
SHELLEY: Oh come on. You know how I roll, Steve. I do what I want.
KOONTZ: I like it when we say the words.
SHELLEY: (SIGH) Okay, fine. “Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society”, I call this story—
KOONTZ: Throw the midnight dust!
SHELLEY: Ya know what, I’m gonna let YOU throw the midnight dust tonight, Dean.
KOONTZ: Oh gosh, can I really? Can I, Stephen?
KING: Go ahead. Don't eat any.
KOONTZ: (WITH MOUTH FULL) I wasn’t gonna eat any.
SHELLEY: I call this story—(WHISPERS) Go on, Dean!
[MAGICAL SPARKLE SOUND]
KOONTZ: I like when it sparkles!
SHELLEY: —the Tale of the Frankenstein.
[MAJESTIC STRINGSY MUSIC CUE]
LOVECRAFT: Don't you mean the Tale of Frankenstein?
[MUSIC STOPS WITH A RECORD SCRATCH NOISE]
SHELLEY: What?
KING: Howard’s right. It's his name, isn't it? I mean, I didn't call my story the tale of the Carrie.
SHELLEY: It's called the Tale of the Frankenstein because it's about a mad scientist who makes a Frankenstein.
BARKER: You're fucking with us, right?
KOONTZ: I like Frankensteins!
SHELLEY: Shit, Steve, you made me give the plot away.
BARKER: She's fucking with us.
[FADE.]
SHELLEY: (V/O) Our story begins on an exploration ship in the Arctic Ocean.
[FADE IN AMBIENCE OF A SHIP IN A COLD OCEAN. WOODEN CREAKS, LOUD WIND. MINOR MELODY ON CELLO PLAYS IN THE SCENE, UNDER THE SAILORS’ VOICES]
SAILORS: (MANY VOICES, VARIOUS ACCENTS AT DIFFERENT VOLUMES/DISTANCES) Yarr!/ Ahoy!/ Hard a-larboard!/ Ready about!/ Aye, sir./ Topsail all, toe the line, come on!/ Ahoy!/ Steady!/ Brace up and haul aft!/ (AND SO ON. ENDS ON:) We’re sailors on a boat!
CAPTAIN WALTON (LOU SUTCLIFFE): Aaah! Smell that sea air!
OLAF (DEXTER HOWARD): (THROUGH BLOCKED NOSE) I can’t, Captain. My nose is frostbitten. I think it might be about to snap off.
WALTON: Well, no wonder. You’re wearing linens and a pith helmet. Didn’t you pack a scarf?
OLAF: No, sir. You said we were going to the tropics.
WALTON: Aah, but not just any tropics. The northern tropics. A verdant paradise at the far north of the globe. Toasty warm! This polar ice is just a barrier.
OLAF: Begging your pardon, sir. That’s... not the case at all.
WALTON: Not according to conventional geography.
OLAF: Oh dear.
WALTON: Just a little further and we’ll go from arctic ice to parad-ice! Plant the flag, pick some coconuts, spend a few days sunbathing, and then straight back up via the cape of South America.
OLAF: ...South America?
WALTON: The very southern tip.
OLAF: Only... that’s nearer the south pole, isn’t it, sir? I mean, the clue is in the name.
WALTON: Yes, but as I’m sure you’re aware, the world is round. We go off the north side, we come back on the south.
OLAF: No—no, sir. That’d only happen if the planet was a torus.
WALTON: Hah! You think you’ve got science on your side, now you’re citing astrology?
OLAF: No, sir. A torus is a topological volume described by rotating a circle about a coplanar— ehh, it’s a doughnut shape, sir.
WALTON: You’re saying the world is a doughnut?
OLAF: No, sir, I’m saying that’s what you’re saying...
WALTON: (TO HIMSELF, AS THE SCENE FADES) I do like a good doughnut.
KING: (V/O) Is this the right story? I don’t remember Frankenstein being on a ship.
[AMBIENCE SNAPS BACK TO CAMPFIRE.]
SHELLEY: We haven’t got to Frankenstein yet. This is my framing device.
KING: (KNOWLEDGEABLY) Ah!
KOONTZ: What’s a framing device?
KING: It’s when one story’s nested inside of another story. Like a grandpa reading a bedtime book to a kid.
POE: Or a group of friends gathering round a campfire to tell their strange and scary tales.
LOVECRAFT: Or someone giving a statement at a lunatic asylum.
BARKER: Why would you give a statement at a psychiatric hospital?
LOVECRAFT: So you could tell a story.
KOONTZ: Oh! I get it! It’s like when Homer Simpson bumps his head and they do a clip show?
KING: Uh... sure, I guess so. Someone’ll be along in a minute to tell their life story, then we’ll flash back to that, then at the end of that story we’ll come back to this bit. Like, you know... a frame.
SHELLEY: Shut up, I’m talking now.
KOONTZ: [FADING] So the Frankenstein’s gonna fall down Springfield Gorge?
AMBIENCE FADES BACK TO SHIP.
CABIN DOOR CREAKS SHUT AND SLAMS, MUFFLING THE WEATHER NOISE. ECHO OF A SMALL CABIN.
OLAF: So, men. I know we were expecting a trip to the tropics, but it turns out Captain Walton is a maniac who believes the world is a doughnut and the tropics are at the north pole. All those in favour of mutiny, say—
SAILORS: (MANY VOICES) Yep/ Aye/ Yes please!/ Oh, definitely/ Yeah, let’s do that/ Thought you’d never ask! (ETC)
OLAF: Motion carried. If there’s no other business, pass me that rope and I’ll get it round his neck as soon as he shuts up.
WALTON: (OFF) Olaf! Olaf! Get out here, I’ve discovered something!
OLAF: (CALLING) On my way, Captain!
AMBIENCE FADES OUT, THEN BACK IN TO EXT. SHIP
WALTON: Ah, excellent, you’ve brought the rope.
OLAF: Oh, (NERVOUS LAUGH) it’s for the, er, mizzen. What’ve you discovered, sir? A sun-kissed island? Maybe you can tell me about it up, er, up by the post there.
WALTON: Nope. A man on a sled, look.
VICTOR (DOMINIC RYE): (OFF) Hello!
OLAF: I’ll say this for you, Captain, your voyages are... different. I’ve never stopped to pick up a hitchhiker in the middle of the ocean before.
VICTOR: (OFF) Hello! Ship! Any chance of a ride?
WALTON: The more the merrier! Olaf, throw him the rope. All aboard!
ROPE BEING THROWN. SOUND OF ROPE UNDER TENSION, FEET CLIMBING AGAINST THE SIDE OF THE SHIP.
OLAF/VICTOR: (GRUNTS OF EXERTION)
WALTON: Heeeeave!
SOUND OF SOMEONE LANDING ON THE DECK.
VICTOR: Either of you seen a Frankenstein around here?
OLAF: Er, afraid not.
WALTON: Curious. What’s a fellow like you doing in a frozen ocean like this?
VICTOR: Tell you what. Get me something to drink, and I’ll tell you my life story.
[FADE. REPRISE OF CELLO THEME TO TRANSITION TO THE NEXT SCENE]
SHELLEY: (V/O) Victor was a bright kid. A real nerd, though. No friends. Grew up in Geneva, got good grades, then off to the medical school at Ingolstadt. Top of his class. No time for socialising. Always stayed late at the lab doing—I dunno, nerd shit with bunsen burners and that.
[UNIVERSITY LAB AMBIENCE FADES IN UNDER V/O: INTERMITTENT ELECTRICAL BUZZ, TICKING CLOCK, CHEMICAL BUBBLING]
PROFESSOR GRIFFIN (ANNA LAZAREV): (GHOSTLY FILTER FOR ALL GRIFFIN'S LINES) Good evening, Victor.
[TINKLE OF GLASSWARE. LIQUID SPILLING]
VICTOR: (STARTLED) Aah! Professor Griffin! Didn't see you there.
GRIFFIN: No. That's the invisibility potion I've been working on. Marvellously effective, but I can't seem to find a counteragent. What do you have there?
VICTOR: Oh, it's some nerd shit with bunsen burners and that.
POE (V/O) Mary!
SHELLEY: (V/O) Fine.
VICTOR: It's a thermoalchemic pump running phlogiston and caloric fluid through an Urbigerus matrix. It bubbles and—occasionally–-gloops. [GLOOP NOISE] There it goes.
GRIFFIN: It's a quite repellent shade of green.
VICTOR: Oh, it changes colour, look. Purple now.
GRIFFIN: Impressive. Does it do anything?
VICTOR: No. It adds atmosphere, you know? You put it on a slab in your laboratory and it... looks... sciencey.
GRIFFIN: No practical applications? No benefit to mankind?
VICTOR: None whatsoever.
GRIFFIN: Interesting. Victor, your undergraduate studies are coming to an end next semester. What are your plans?
VICTOR: My plans?
GRIFFIN: Yes. Where do you see yourself in five years?
VICTOR: Well, hopefully, still able to see myself. (NERVOUS GIGGLE)
GRIFFIN: That's not funny.
VICTOR: Sorry, Professor.
GRIFFIN: As it happens, I wanted to talk to you about something. Academically, you've been our highest performing student since the day you came here, and yet—how to put this. There are areas in which you seem to have learned nothing at all. What do you know of... humanity?
VICTOR: Actually, the human organism has been at the forefront of—
GRIFFIN: I'm not talking about human organisms, Victor, I'm talking about people. You've no understanding. Empathy, co-operation, compromise—these words mean nothing to you.
VICTOR: I never really thought that stuff was relevant.
GRIFFIN: Of course you didn't. Other students give up a part of themselves to become part of some greater thing, but you—you're still the same arrogant teenager you were when you stepped off the coach.
VICTOR: Professor, if I've done something wrong—
GRIFFIN: I'd like you to come and meet Professor Waldman.
[GLASSWARE NOISE FADES. DOOR SHUTS.]
PROFESSOR WALDMAN (BRAD BARNES): Victor, isn't it?
VICTOR: (NERVOUSLY) Yes, sir. Doctor. Professor.
WALDMAN: Professor Griffin's told me a lot about you.
VICTOR: Good, I hope?
WALDMAN: Not at all. Apparently you're a ruthless bully with no time for anyone but yourself. (BEAT) We'd like to offer you a place on our postgraduate programme.
GRIFFIN: Professor Waldman is head of department of... unnatural philosophy.
VICTOR: Mad science?
WALDMAN: (AS THE SCENE FADES) Oh, that's such a loaded term.
[FADE]
[CELLO THEME. FADE IN EVENING/NIGHTTIME NOISES FOR A SPOOKY 18TH-CENTURY EUROPEAN TOWN: RAIN, HOOFBEATS, FOOTSTEPS, DISTANT WOLF HOWLS, BELLS, SOMEONE SHOUTING “BRING OUT YOUR DEAD”, ETC]
SHELLEY: (V/O) Ingolstadt Medical was the biggest centre of mad science in the world. Perfect city for it, nothing but imposing castles and graveyards. Surrounded by wolf-infested coniferous forests and snowcapped mountains. Thunderstorms all year round. Half the population dyin' of plagues, the other half diggin' 'em up to do weird experiments. Every now and then, when the mad scientists did something particularly mad, the peasant folk from miles around would descend on the place, surround the building, and the mad scientists would bolt the doors and stand up on the roof terrace and watch in pride and arrogance.
MOB (MANY VOICES): (CALL-RESPONSE CHANT) What do we want? SANE SCIENCE! When do we want it? NOW! (CONTINUES)
[AMBIENCE FADES TO BATTLEMENTS ON ‘MOB NIGHT’: TORCH FLAMES, UNINTELLIGIBLE SHOUTING FROM A CROWD.
A CORK POPS. DRINK BEING POURED. GLASSES CLINKING]
WALDMAN: I love mob nights. You see that, everyone? Those terrified faces? Hundreds of them. We did that. They're here for us.
VICTOR: I wouldn't say for us.
DR KREMPE (DAVID COURT): Against us, you mean? Even better! Have you read Machiavelli, young man?
WALDMAN: Victor, meet Dr Krempe. He's our resident (WITH SOME DISDAIN) mad social scientist.
KREMPE: You scoff, but there's as much chaos to be wielded with politics and economics as there is with monsters and green slime. Machiavelli says, if it ever comes down to a choice between being loved by the people and being feared, choose fear every time. People who love you will eventually betray you. But people who fear you will always obey you—because it's in their own interest. Those people down there? For all their pitchforks and fiery torches—
VICTOR: Some of them have set light to their pitchforks.
KREMPE: Yes, they do get confused. They wouldn't dare actually hurt us though. We're safe up here. If they thought they could actually get into a room with any of us, they wouldn't try.
VICTOR: What exactly is it that they're angry about?
KREMPE: Well, that's the question.
WALDMAN: We won't really know until one of them shouts something intelligible. Tell you something, though—whoever's work it is, a mob this size will look damn fine on their record. Of course I'm hoping they're here about my lightning gargoyles, but it could be Krempe's work on new ways to drive shoppers insane, or Griffin's invisibility research—where is Griffin?
GRIFFIN: (IRRITABLY) Right here.
WALDMAN: Ah, sorry, Professor. I'm sure you'll come up with an antidote one of these days. Keep at it and you'll see it through. Till then, we'll keep seeing through you, eh?
KREMPE: (PAUSE) I think she took offence.
WALDMAN: All friendly banter between enemies. How's your own work going, Victor?
VICTOR: Well, I've made numerous improvements to the useless colour-changing bubbling thing. The latest model has a sulphurous odour generator and a glass sphere that hums. And I'm working on a sort of pair of upright needles with an electric bolt zapping between them.
WALDMAN: To be honest, I thought you might be on to greater things by now. Never get a mob after you for making desk ornaments.
PEASANT (RODRIGO): (OFF) What you been dumpin' in our water supply? All my pigs have gone invisible!
WALDMAN: Well done, Griffin. (CALLING) Ladies and gentlemen—to Professor Griffin!
[CHEERS, GLASSES CLINKING]
VICTOR/KREMPE/OTHERS: Griffin!
KREMPE: Good to know you're finally being noticed.
GRIFFIN: Oh, piss off.
[FADE.
CAMPFIRE AMBIENCE FADES IN. SOUND OF SOMEONE EATING POTATO CHIPS]
SHELLEY: That's when Victor knew that to get anywhere in the world of mad science, he was gonna have to do something big. Something no-one had done before. So he decided to make a Frankenstein.
LOVECRAFT: You mean a Frankenstein's monster.
KING: No, she means Frankenstein's monster, not a Frankenstein's monster. There's only one, right?
SHELLEY: There weren't any. His was the first Frankenstein. That's the fuckin point.
KING: But he's Frankenstein. That's his last name, isn't it?
SHELLEY: Oh my God, you fucking nerds.
BARKER: (CRUNCHING CHIPS) Steve, she's fucking with us.
SHELLEY: What you eating?
BARKER: Pringles, want some?
SHELLEY: (SARCASTICALLY) Don't you mean "Mr Pringle's potato-based snack products"?
KING: (PAUSE) That's not—
POE: Steve.
KING: —unreasonable.
[FADE TO UNIVERSITY BUILDING]
SHELLEY: (V/O) It was on a dreary night of November. Or as Steve probably calls it, "November's month".
[FADE IN AMBIENCE OF A SEMINAR ROOM IN THE UNIVERSITY: LIGHTS, CLOCK, MUFFLED MAD SCIENCE NOISES IN NEIGHBOURING ROOMS. HUBBUB OF A SMALL AUDIENCE FILING IN AND SETTLING DOWN]
KREMPE: Is this seat taken?
GRIFFIN: Yes. Thanks for asking. I've been sat on by two students and five junior professors so far.
KREMPE: Oh, Griffin, good to... perceive you. What d'you think this seminar's about?
GRIFFIN: Hopefully, we're about to find out what young Victor's been spending all our money on for the last two years. What do you suppose he's got under that sheet there?
KREMPE: Well... you must have heard the rumours...
GRIFFIN: You don't believe that, do you?
KREMPE: The boy is bright. Never saw such potential in a student. If anyone could make a Fra—
VICTOR: (MORE CONFIDENT AND SHOWMANLY THAN BEFORE) Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming. I'm pleased to announce that I'm ready to show what you might call some preliminary results, representing a significant breakthrough in the mad sciences. Behold!
[SHEET BEING PULLED AWAY. GENERAL CONSTERNATION FROM CROWD]
KREMPE: It is a Frankenstein!
VICTOR: That's right—a complete Frankenstein! Something never before achieved in the history of unnatural philosophy. My research notes are being handed out now. I'm sure you'll find them intriguing, as they go through several scientific fields that don't yet exist. Any questions? Professor Waldman.
WALDMAN: Where did you find all the pieces? Did you steal corpses?
VICTOR: (PROUDLY) Oh yes. I dug them up from the graveyards and cut them down from the gallows. This Frankenstein contains parts from over two hundred individuals, who may not have amounted to anything in life, but they'll never know what a tremendous posthumous contribution they've made to science. You'll find their names in the acknowledgements, at least the ones I could find out. Next question. I see a hovering handkerchief. Yes, Professor Griffin?
GRIFFIN: Is it alive?
VICTOR: I'm very glad you asked. If you'd care to volunteer to get up and pull that big red switch on the wall there...
[BIG ELECTRICAL SWITCH BEING PULLED. CABLE UNREELING]
VICTOR: What you're hearing is the kite-based anode being released. The current will run down the wire, through the Frankenstein's cerebral assembly, and to earth via this—[CLANG]—lead drainpipe. Professor Waldman, you're the expert on alternative meteorology. When would you say we're due our next bolt of lightning?
WALDMAN: Oh, er—now?
[CLIMACTIC STRINGSY MUSIC. THUNDERBOLT. ELECTRIC ZAP. SHOWER OF SPARKS]
MONSTER (CANAVAN CONNOLLY): (GRUNTS) Whuh-uh-urrrrghhh...?
VICTOR: IT'S ALIVE! MY FRANKENSTEIN IS ALIIIIIVE!!
[NOISES OF ASTONISHMENT FROM AUDIENCE, THEN POLITE APPLAUSE]
GRIFFIN: You're gonna get the mother of all mobs when the peasants get wind of this.
VICTOR: I'm one step ahead of you, Professor. Somebody open those window shutters.
[SHUTTERS BEING OPENED. VERY LOUD MOB]
MOB: (OFF) (CALL-AND-RESPONSE CHANT) One, two, three, nine! WE DON’T WANT YOUR FRANKENSTEIN! (CONTINUES)
MONSTER: (GRUNTS)
WALDMAN: There's thousands of them.
VICTOR: Over ten thousand, all beyond enraged. Coaches had to be sent to neighbouring duchies to bus them in. Pitchforks have sold out at all major agricultural suppliers.
[IN THE BACKGROUND, UNHEEDED BY THE OTHER CHARACTERS, THE MONSTER CONTINUES TO GRUNT IN CONFUSION. HEAVY FOOTSTEPS CROSS THE ROOM AND FADE. DOOR SWINGS OPEN AND SHUTS]
KREMPE: Motion to appoint Victor as head of department!
WALDMAN: But I'm head of department—
GRIFFIN: Seconded!
WALDMAN: This isn't how we—
VICTOR: Carried!
WALDMAN: Victor. Victor, your—
VICTOR: You will address me as Professor!
WALDMAN: (SHOUTING) All right then, Professor!
[AUDIENCE MAKES AN “OOH, FIGHT” NOISE THEN GOES QUIET. MOB STILL OUTSIDE]
WALDMAN: This isn't so much a question, more of an observation.
VICTOR: Go on.
WALDMAN: Your Frankenstein's buggered off.
VICTOR: ...shit!
[SHORT BANJO MUSIC CUE. FADE.
FADE IN CAMPFIRE AMBIENCE]
SHELLEY: The Frankenstein escapes from the college, gets past the mob, and aways into the countryside. Now, he gets hungry and goes into some shepherd's hut, only this shepherd is just fucking terrified of Frankensteins so he runs away. Then the Frankenstein eats all the food in the shepherd's pot, and drinks all the water in the barrel, and then finds this satchel, which turns out to have a copy of Paradise Lost and The Sorrows of Werther in it.
LOVECRAFT: Wait, a nineteenth-century Bavarian peasant shepherd was reading Milton and Goethe?
SHELLEY: Yes. Yes, he was. Why? [SOUND OF SWITCHBLADE FLICKING OPEN] You wanna make something of it?
POE: Mary, what did we say about threatening your fellow Society members with a switchblade?
SHELLEY: As I recall, Edgar, you said I shouldn’t do it, and I said, say that again and I’ll fuckin’ stick you. Anyone else got a problem?
LOVECRAFT: (WEAKLY) No.
SHELLEY: Yeah, that’s what I thought.
[SWISS COUNTRYSIDE DAYTIME AMBIENCE FADES IN: BIRDSONG, GENTLE BREEZE IN WOODS, WATER TRICKLING NEARBY.
THE MONSTER'S HEAVY FOOTSTEPS CAN BE HEARD, PEOPLE RUNNING AWAY, CRYING THINGS LIKE “AAARGH”, “A FRANKENSTEIN”, “IT’S GREEN AND IT’S GOT BOLTS ON ITS NECK, IT’S DEFINITELY A FRANKENSTEIN”, ETC. DISTRESSED GRUNTS FROM THE MONSTER]
SHELLEY: So. The Frankenstein's a goth now. He’s wandering the countryside, livin' off berries an' shit. Doesn't meet many people, but when he does they always bolt. And he doesn't know why, 'cause he doesn't even know he's a Frankenstein yet. Then one day he sees his reflection in a puddle, and he's like,
MONSTER: Fuck me, I'm a Frankenstein! No wonder everyone's been legging it when they see me. I'd leg it from me. [FOOTSTEPS RESUME]
SHELLEY: (V/O) Then he sees this peasant man comin' up the track, and he's like,
MONSTER: Ugh, here we go again, this bastard's gonna lose his shit when he sees I'm a Frankenstein.
LOVECRAFT: (V/O) All these characters kinda talk with the same voice.
SHELLEY: (V/O) Shut the fuck up, Howard. So the Frankenstein's like,
MONSTER: ’Sup, peasant.
SHELLEY (V/O) But this bloke just nods at him—
DE LACEY (RODRIGO): (FRENCH ACCENT) Bonjour, my friend.
MONSTER: Whuh?
SHELLEY: (V/O) —and carries on. You know why?
[AMBIENCE FADES BACK TO CAMPFIRE]
KOONTZ: Oh! Is he another Frankenstein?
KING: Frankenstein's Monster.
POE: Steve.
SHELLEY: No. There are no other Frankensteins yet.
KOONTZ: Oh, poor Frankenstein.
LOVECRAFT: Is it because the peasant's a... you know?
SHELLEY: I... I don't know.
LOVECRAFT: You know.
BARKER: Literally nobody knows.
LOVECRAFT: I think you know. (LOWERS VOICE) A tinktonk. A cricklecrack.
SHELLEY: Is he just making up slurs?
LOVECRAFT: A boofnoggin.
SHELLEY: He’s just making up slurs!
LOVECRAFT: Oh, am I not allowed to say that? Excuse me for not being politically correct—
KING: Howard, you're not even being semantically correct.
KOONTZ: (GIGGLING) What's a boofnoggin?
POE: I have no idea, but you must never, and I mean never say it again.
SHELLEY: Guys. It's because he's blind. That's why the peasant's not afraid of the Frankenstein.
LOVECRAFT: Oh. Disability representation. How ‘woke’.
KING: (SIGH) Who taught him that word?
BARKER: (LAUGHS) I’ll fess up, it was me. (PAUSE) I thought it would be funny.
[FADE.
FADE IN SWISS FOREST SOUNDS. A DOOR OPENS. SOMEONE TRIPS OVER A PILE OF WOOD, SENDING IT CLATTERING.]
DE LACEY: Aaaarghh!
MONSTER: Hello!
DE LACEY: What happened?
MONSTER: I chopped some firewood for you. Thought you might want a hand.
DE LACEY: Well, thank you, but next time ask first. Don't just leave it all over the doorstep.
MONSTER: I wanted it to be a surprise.
DE LACEY: Well, it was that. Have we met?
MONSTER: We have now. I'm your new living human next-door neighbour.
DE LACEY: Next door? I live in the middle of a forest.
MONSTER: Yes, but—we built a house next to yours. Me and my living human family who are usually out. You can't see it, because you're blind, but it's there. I'm not living alone in your root cellar.
DE LACEY: (BRIGHTLY) Ah!
MONSTER: Haven't been spying on you, working up the courage to introduce myself. Dreaming of becoming your friend and going on boat rides together and being loved and needed. None of that.
DE LACEY: Good. 'Cause that would be what we call fetishisation, and it would not make us friends.
MONSTER: Anything else I can help you with? While I'm passing by on my way to... to... a town, to do normal human stuff like shopping for bread!
DE LACEY: Well, if it's no trouble and if you don't mind being a bit less weird, I could do with a hand gathering some apples.
MONSTER: Gladly! I love gathering.
DE LACEY: Ah, merci! My orchard's round the back, it's this way.
MONSTER: (PAUSE) ...your orchard.
DE LACEY: Yes! Two acres. Tou must have seen it.
MONSTER: I, er.
DE LACEY: And if we pick right now, they'll have exactly the right tang to give my cider...
MONSTER: Er...
DE LACEY: What the... there was a tree here... and here.... and here. Where are my trees?
MONSTER: Well, I, er, they might be, erm, on your doorstep, and piled very neatly along the front of your cottage.
DE LACEY: You cut down my orchard?
MONSTER: Was I not supposed to?
DE LACEY: My grandad planted those trees. That was my booze supply for the whole winter.
MONSTER: What's booze?
[FADE. ACCORDION MUSIC CUE]
[FADE IN COTTAGE AMBIENCE: CRACKLING FIRE, MUFFLED FOREST NOISES AUDIBLE THROUGH WALL. BOTTLE BEING OPENED, DRINK POURING, MUGS CLINKING]
MONSTER: (DRUNK) I thoroughly enjoy this booze.
DE LACEY: (ALSO DRUNK) Good. 'Cause it'll take you a while to work back the cost of the orchard, but there's no reason we can't have a drink at the end of the day. (GIGGLING) Maybe I could do with a friend.
MONSTER: Oh, that would be—
[KNOCK AT DOOR]
MONSTER: Who's that?
DE LACEY: Oh, mm, (BELCH) that'll be my daughter Agatha. Checks on me once a week, when she can be bothered.
MONSTER: Your daughter? Can she see?
DE LACEY: Yes.
[SCARY BACKGROUND MUSIC STARTS PLAYING: FRANTIC STRINGS, BUILDING UP]
MONSTER: You can't let her in!
DE LACEY: Oh, don't be daft.
[DOOR OPENS]
AGATHA (LIETTHYS): Papa, what happened to your orchard? (TERRIFIED) Oh my God, a Frankenstein!
DE LACEY: What?
AGATHA: Out! OUT!
MONSTER: Don’t hit me with a broom! [SOUND OF MONSTER BEING HIT WITH A BROOM] No, don't hit me with a broom, I'm a good Frankenstein! I'm—Aaaargh!!
[KERFUFFLE. FLEEING HEAVY FOOTSTEPS. DOOR CLATTERS]
AGATHA: That's it, Papa, you've got to come and move in with me and Safia. It's too dangerous out here. Drinking with Frankensteins. What’s next?
DE LACEY: (AS THE SCENE FADES) He never told me he was a Frankenstein...
[AMBIENCE FADES BACK TO CAMPFIRE]
KING: That doesn't make sense. How do these people even know what a Frankenstein is?
SHELLEY: Well, Steve, if they don't know what a Frankenstein is, they wouldn't know what a "Frankenstein's monster" is either, would they?
KING: No, they shouldn't know—
POE: Steve. Let it go.
KOONTZ: What did the Frankenstein do next?
SHELLEY: (GENTLY) Well, what would you do if your only friend ran away from you like that? That's right, Dean. He burned the fuckin' house down.
[SOUND OF BLAZING HOUSE FIRE]
POE: Mary. He looks up to you.
SHELLEY: Then he goes on a murderous rampage, just terrorising the shit out of villages.
[COUNTRYSIDE AMBIENCE FADES IN. SOUND OF MURDEROUS RAMPAGE—ROARS FROM THE MONSTER, SCREAMS AND CRIES FROM MANY VILLAGERS]
SHELLEY: (V/O) Then one day, somewhere near Geneva, he sees a little child playing, and he says to himself,
[SLIGHTLY CREEPY LAUGHTER OF A CHILD PLAYING ALONE]
MONSTER: Adults run from me, but maybe an innocent child who doesn't know what a Frankenstein is won't be afraid of me. (SWEETLY) Maybe this time, I really can make a friend.
KOONTZ: (V/O) Did it work?
SHELLEY: (V/O) No, Dean. The child screamed at the sight of him so the Frankenstein snapped his neck... [CHILD SCREAMING. SNAP.] like a twig. [DEAD BODY BEING DROPPED]
[FADE BACK TO CAMPFIRE]
KOONTZ: Aaaaaa!
KING: It's OK, Dean. It's not real. Tell him it’s not real, Mary.
SHELLEY: Stop interrupting. So back at the college, Victor gets a letter. His little brother—did I mention he had a little brother?
POE: No.
SHELLEY: Well he does, obviously. This letter says his little brother's dead. And the surgeon who examined the body said the only possible explanation for the wounds was—
[FADE TO VICTOR’S OFFICE IN UNIVERSITY. MAD SCIENCE LAB SOUNDS FROM ADJACENT ROOM.]
VICTOR: —an attack by a Frankenstein? But then—
[DOOR OPENS. LAB AMBIENCE]
Have any of the rest of you been making Frankensteins?
KREMPE: Not really my field.
WALDMAN: No. Mainly been working in mad architecture myself.
GRIFFIN: Oh, no, that’s—
[DOOR CLOSES. OFFICE AMBIENCE]
VICTOR: —then it must have been my Frankenstein!
[DOOR OPENS. LAB AMBIENCE]
VICTOR: Professors, I'm taking a sabbatical, effective immediately. [LEAVING] Dr Krempe's in charge.
DOOR SWINGING
GRIFFIN: Why Krempe? I've been here twice as long as him.
KREMPE: (SCOFFING) Aw, d'you feel you're not getting enough recognition?
GRIFFIN: Up yours.
[FADE. WINTRY GLOCKENSPIEL MUSIC CUE.]
SHELLEY: Victor takes the fastest coach back to Geneva. As soon as he steps off, there's a flash of lightning, and what does he see, up on a glacier—it's the Frankenstein. So up he goes to have a climactic face-off. Victor's like,
[FADE IN GLACIER AMBIENCE: WIND, TRICKLING WATER]
VICTOR: You killed my brother, you fucking Frankenstein.
MONSTER: Yeah. I thought that might get your attention.
VICTOR: If you think that murdering my brother will make me more sympathetic to you—
MONSTER: Of course not. You're incapable of sympathy. I was never anything to you but a paper to show off to your mad science friends. You brought me to life and then abandoned me. Just let me wander off.
VICTOR: I didn't notice. It was chaos. There was a mob—two mobs. The peasants and the faculty...
MONSTER: Chaos? What do you think it was like for me? You humans have it easy. You get born. I've never been born, but it doesn't sound complicated. You plop out and make your introductions. I just—found myself lying on a slab, surrounded by weird equipment and a bunch of mad scientists arguing with each other. An innocent soul—
[CELLO MUSIC IN BACKGROUND]
VICTOR: Innocent?
MONSTER: —turned out into a hostile world—
VICTOR: Innocent? You burned down a blind man's house, strangled a child, and God knows what else—
MONSTER: I was corrupted by an immoral society.
VICTOR: You know what? We all are. Some of us cope without the arson and murder sprees. I should take you back to the college and dissect you.
[MONSTER ROARS. STOMPING FOOTSTEPS AND FALLING GRAVEL AS IT ADVANCES ON VICTOR]
MONSTER: I'd like to see you try.
VICTOR: What do you want?
MONSTER: I want... [THUNDER] ...you to make another Frankenstein.
[MUSIC STOPS ABRUPTLY WITH RECORD SCRATCH]
KING: (V/O) Another Frankenstein's monster, you mean.
SHELLEY: (V/O) Whose fuckin' story is this?
[MUSIC STARTS AGAIN]
VICTOR: I'm done with Frankensteins. I need to do something different, for the sake of my career. I can't only make Frankensteins forever. They'll start calling me Doctor Frankenstein.
KING: (V/O) Ah, for Pete's sake.
MONSTER: This one will be different. You're going to make a lady Frankenstein.
VICTOR: A lady Frankenstein? Why would I do that?
MONSTER: Because no one's ever done it before.
[FADE.
SEMINAR ROOM. SCIENCE NOISES. HUBBUB FROM AUDIENCE]
VICTOR: Behold... an achievement unparallelled in mad science—a lady Frankenstein!
[SHEET BEING MOVED. THUNDER. ELECTRICAL BUZZ. CONSTERNATION FROM CROWD.]
BRIDE (BETH LINDLY): Urrrhgggharaghh. What the—
VICTOR: SHE'S ALIVE!!! Any questions?
BRIDE: Yes. Who am I?
VICTOR: I didn't mean you.
[FADE OUT, THEN BACK IN WITH BATTLEMENTS AMBIENCE. BUBBLING GLASSWARE, RATTLING OF CHAINS AND CAGE BARS IN BACKGROUND. EXTREMELY LOUD MOB]
MOB: (OFF) Frankenstein, Frankenstein, Frankenstein! OUT OUT OUT! (CONTINUES)
WALDMAN: Victor. Congratulations on another spectacular.
BRIDE: [RATTLING CAGE BARS] Let me out!
WALDMAN: Early estimates put the mob size at twelve thousand. They're having to share pitchforks.
VICTOR: A success for one is a success for all, Waldman. Hang on, my arm's being grabbed, you know how it is—
MONSTER: Hello, Victor.
VICTOR: What the—how did you get up here?
GRIFFIN: Ah, Victor! I see you've met my new Masters student.
VICTOR: Griffin?
GRIFFIN: Didn't see me coming, eh?
BRIDE: [RATTLING BARS LOUDER] Let me out!
GRIFFIN: So you've prevented your new Frankenstein from escaping this time.
MONSTER: Let's go take a closer look at her, shall we?
VICTOR: Let go of me—
GRIFFIN: Keep quiet.
VICTOR: Why?
GRIFFIN: You see that bubbling glassware behind her cage?
VICTOR: Of course. I put it there. It's harmless.
GRIFFIN: Not quite true. Caloric fluid and phlogiston flowing through an Urbigerus matrix, yes?
VICTOR: Yes.
GRIFFIN: Now tell me. What would happen if one connected the caloric and phlogiston pipes through a simple Paracelsian capacitor, like that one?
[BLEEP OF AN ELECTRONIC DEVICE BEING ACTIVATED]
VICTOR: That—how long's that been there?
GRIFFIN: The question was what will happen? Perhaps my new postgraduate can answer it. How's your practical alchemy?
MONSTER: The alembical potential in the capacitor will rapidly cohobate the caloric...
BRIDE: ...causing the phlogiston to transmute into an unstable isotope...
GRIFFIN: I'm impressed.
VICTOR: ...the chrysopeian differential will cause the system to heat...
GRIFFIN: Enough heat to ignite the luminiferous aether!
VICTOR: (INCREDULOUSLY) A phlogiston bomb?
GRIFFIN: That's Griffin's phlogiston bomb. (PAUSE) It’s a work in progress, you know?
VICTOR: It'll blow the whole department down.
GRIFFIN: Only when I press this invisible detonator which I have in my invisible hand. [CAGE DOOR BEING SWUNG OPEN] Get in the cage. Both of you.
[CAGE DOOR SLAMMING SHUT]
GRIFFIN: Now give me the key. Thank you. [KEY TURNING IN LOCK.] Oh dear, I've thrown it off the battlements.
BRIDE: Excuse me?
VICTOR: What do you want?
BRIDE: Is it true what they've been saying? That I'm a Frankenstein?
VICTOR: Oh yes. The newest model. Multiple enhancements across your body, mind, and aesthetics. You know, the two of you together could probably break through the cage bars—
MONSTER: Yes, I was meaning to ask about the aesthetics. What d'you do that for? She's supposed to be monstrous.
VICTOR: She's literally a monster.
MONSTER: She looks like an undergraduate going to a sexy Halloween party. She was supposed to look monstrous.
VICTOR: Why?
MONSTER: So she can be my girlfriend.
BRIDE: Oh, you wanted someone who couldn't do better than you?
MONSTER: Yes!
BRIDE: (SNARKY LAUGH) Men Frankensteins!
VICTOR: Look—let's—Griffin, I believe you were threatening to blow us all up. What are your demands?
GRIFFIN: Oh, I don't have any demands. I pressed the detonator while you were arguing.
VICTOR: What—why?
GRIFFIN: You don't get to the top of the unnatural philosophy department without pissing people off, Victor. And I guess you pissed me a little too far off.
VICTOR: You're mad.
GRIFFIN: Literally part of my job title. You got promoted over my head, then you passed me over for promotion yourself. Years of being treated like I'm invisible.
VICTOR: You are invisible. (SHOUTING) Everyone, we all need to leave—oh, they... already have.
CROWD NOISE HAS FADED OUT DURING THE ABOVE DIALOGUE. (DISTANT MOB STILL THERE.) A FEW SECONDS' PAUSE IN CONVERSATION TO TAKE THIS IN.
GRIFFIN: All in on it with me. Slipped out into the mob while you were arguing. Look at them down there. They're here for you, Victor.
MOB: (OFF) NO MORE FRANKENSTEINS! NO MORE FRANKENSTEINS! (CONTINUES)
GRIFFIN: Tragically you and both of your Frankensteins are about to be destroyed in a daring but unwise experiment, and the department will finally get that new building we’ve been asking for for years. Be seeing you, Victor.
VICTOR: Yeah? Can't say the same! Ha!
GRIFFIN: (LEAVING) Still not funny.
[ROOF DOOR CLOSES. RATTLE OF CAGE. BLEEPING ACCELERATES TO INDICATE TIMER APPROACHING ZERO]
VICTOR: You happy now?
MONSTER: We belong dead.
BRIDE: What about me? I deserve to live!
MONSTER: No, you don't. You've done nothing wrong.
[GLOOP. HUGE EXPLOSION. FADE.
CAMPFIRE AMBIENCE FADES BACK IN.]
LOVECRAFT: So the lesson we can take from this—
POE: Howard
LOVECRAFT: —is that different sorts of people shouldn't be integrated into society.
POE: No, Howard. No.
KOONTZ: Poor Frankensteins.
SHELLEY: Don't feel bad, Dean. The really sad ending would have been if they'd gone on living. The world isn't kind to you when you're a Frankenstein.
KING: Frankenstein's monster, you mean.
SHELLEY: Oh I’m sorry, Steve, did you define a genre when you were eighteen?
KING: Er. No?
SHELLEY: Then shut the fuck up.
KOONTZ: Is that the end? You have to say "the end".
SHELLEY: The end.
KOONTZ: Then Edgar has to say—
POE: I declare this meeting of the Midnight Society closed.
KOONTZ: Yaaaaay!
[AMBIENCE FADES. END MUSIC STARTS—A SLOWER, CHILLER VERSION OF THE OPENING THEME ON OCARINA AND HARP.]
VOICEOVER (RODRIGO): Submitted for the Approval of the Midnight Pals starred Rebecca D’Souza as Mary Shelley, Rodrigo Borges as Edgar Allan Poe, Jason Robinson as Stephen King, Sister Indica as Clive Barker, Wren Montgomery as Dean Koontz, and Robin Johnson as HP Lovecraft, with Dominic Rye as Victor Frankenstein, Canavan Connolly as the Monster, Beth Lindly as the Bride, Anna Lazarev as Professor Griffin, Brad Barnes as Professor Waldman, David Court as Dr Krempe, Rodrigo Borges, Lietthys as Agatha, Lou Sutcliffe as Captain Walton, and Dexter Howard as Olaf, and additional voices by Loretta Chang, Pelle Frid, Mercedes Hesselroth, Daisy McNamara, Eve Morris, and Adam Robinson. The script was written by Robin Johnson and edited by Bitter Karella, with a story based loosely on Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. The episode was directed and produced by Robin Johnson. Daisy McNamara was an audio consultant. Submitted for the Approval of the Midnight Pals is created by Bitter Karella. All characters are fictitious, especially the real ones. If you’ve enjoyed this episiode, please consider leaving us a rating or a review on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or your favourite podcast platform. Find Submitted for the Approval of the Midnight Pals at midnightpals.com, or follow us on twitter at @midnight_pals.
[MUSIC PLAYS OUT.
CAMPFIRE AMBIENCE FADES BACK IN]
BARKER: Night night everyone... (WHISPERING) and watch out for Frankensteins.
SHELLEY: Frankenstein’s monster, you dipshit.
KING: Hey, uh, what about your framing device?
SHELLEY: Oh... fuck!
[AMBIENCE QUICKLY FADES BACK TO SHIP’S CABIN]
WALTON: What an astonishing life story. What happened next?
VICTOR: The Frankenstein—the first one—managed to get out, and so did I. So I chased him to the north pole! (MATTER-OF-FACTLY) Oh shit, I’m dying of hypothermia.
[SLUMP OF BODY FALLING ONTO WOODEN FLOOR.
FADE.]