Monsters consider limping to be something more than just a dance fad or cultural identifier. For monsters, it’s a way of life. Literally.
I was having lunch with King Tut’s mummy on Tuesday, and he was telling me how unbelievably difficult it is to get around after spending thousands of years enclosed in his tomb. His muscles are stiff – what’s left of them. He’s dehydrated and low on electrolytes and vitamin D from being enclosed so long. And his left foot had fallen asleep before all of his blood finished drying out, so he’s got permanent pins and needles down his entire left leg.
Just one of those conditions would be enough to screw up your walking style, let alone all three.
And the stories are similar for many monsters, expecially the undead: zombies are subject to missing/eaten limbs, Frankenstein gave his monster two different legs with a four-inch length difference, werewolves are used to walking on all fours and lose their balance when standing upright. The list goes on.
It’s easy to feel sorry for these monsters – misshapen, ripped from their slumber only to rampage the earth in heated revenge, and kinda crippled on top of it all. But pity them not! They have found a way to turn their weakness into a strength.
After all, what’s more bone-chillingly frightening than the staggered clonk-clump, clonk-clump coming down the dark hallway toward your half-closed bedroom door?
