I Have Seen the Future and it's the Bee's Knees

Art by Bob Lavin. Cover illustration for Hunt Collins' (aka Ed McBain's) "Tomorrow and Tomorrow."

The Time Traveler and his Wife pop into the future from the Roaring Twenties. Their Time Machine resembles the offspring of a Flivver and a Van de Graaff generator. They gawp at the inhabitants of the shiny, candy-colored city of the future.

Mr. Time Traveler: The future’s the cat’s meow, I tells ya!
Mrs. Time Traveler: Oh, but darling … so much pastel!
Mr. Time Traveler: Tell me about it. And not a straw boater in sight!
Mrs. Time Traveler: And the women are so … so overdeveloped. 

Mr. Time Traveler: Well, it’s the future, ain’t it? Evolution or whatever. By future standards, these dames might be flat-chested.
Mrs. Time Traveler: Oh, these chippies are shameless! I think we should go back to your time machine!
Mr. Time Traveler: You know what I think?
Mrs. Time Traveler: No, darling. 
Mr. Time Traveler: Howzabout you go back to the time machine? Set the dial to 1929 and take a powder. Meanwhile, I’ll snag me a pastel shirt and reconnoiter on the QT. Get the lowdown on the moral depravity. Hearst'll eat it up, know what I mean? 
Mrs. Time Traveler: No. How will you get back? 

They walk over to the Time Machine.

Mr. Time Traveler: Let me worry about that. Here, doll. Take a seat.
Mrs. Time Traveler: OK. I love you. 
Mr. Time Traveler: Sure you did. Twenty-three skiddoo, baby.

Mr. Time Traveler pushes a button. The Time Machine disappears with Mrs. Time Traveler in it.

Loudspeaker: Sexual fulfillment exercises begin in five minutes. Interested parties, please gather at the Orgasmic Interociter for further instructions.

The depraved Futurians squeal with glee and run.

The Time Traveler flings his straw boater to the sky and joins them.

My First Cryptid Alphabestiary

A is for "Altie," a sturgeon or plesiosaur. He likes rivers in Georgia, and eats yuppies on tours.

B is for "Bunyip" who lives in Australia. He's a government secret. If you blab, they will jail ya.

C is for "Chupacabra," Trump's nightmare come true. He won't take your job, man. He hungers for you.

D is for "Dookie." He's no monster, he's shit. But so are the rest. He's the one perfect fit.

E is for "Ent," a tree without roots. He stomped Marvel Studios, pissed off about Groot.

F is for “Fir Bolg,” the Bigfoot of Ireland. I’m stuck for a rhyme, ‘cause I’m feeling tired, man.

G is for "Gremlin," who torments Bill Shatner. If she falls from the wing, you know it'll flatten her.

H is for "Half-Elf," a miserable bum. The best you can say is he's better than none.

I is for "Id," the monster within. He hates Leslie Nielsen, but likes to see skin.

K is for "Kraken," who lives in the sea. Don't release him, you moron. Take it from me.

L is for "Loch Ness Monster," (Nessie for short.) His true name is "Cecil," I'm glad to report.

M is for "Manticore," a Persian monstrosity. ELP is his groove. He digs the pomposity.

N is for "Nü Gui," a ghost hit-girl from China. The spirit of vengeance flows from her deepest inner self.

O is for "Ogre," a creature of dread. He grinds Englishmen's bones to make gluten-free bread.

P is for "Pixie." They're cute and resent it. If you have a new car, they'll fly out and dent it.

Q is for "Qliphoth," a shell of the dead. According to Pynchon, it lives under your bed.

R is for "Roc," a big honking bird. He feasts on fat surfers, at least so I've heard.

S is for "Skunk Ape," who lives up to his name. You'll smell him in Florida. Yeah, we get the blame.

T is for "Troll," malign and online. (Visit www.troll.com to have a good time.)

U is for "Undine," elemental and watery. Like Druids, she's fluid, and likes to spoil pottery.

V is for "Valva," she's translucent and pink. A spirit of nature, it's not what you think.

W is for "Warg," a Buick-sized wolf who ravages fortresses. Not to be confused with the Direwolf, for copyright purposes.

X is for "Xenomorph," a chest-bursting bitch. A sure-fire cure for the space-faring itch.

Y is for "You," try not to feel blue. We're all monsters inside, you know that it's true.

Z is for "Zombie," and you can see why. The corpse, like the trope, refuses to die.