Once upon a time there was a baby.

It was worse than other babies. For
one thing, it was larger.

Its body was not merely obese, but
downright bloated.

One of its feet had too many toes,
and the other one not enough.

Its hands were both left ones.

Its nose was beaky, and appeared
to be considerably older than the
rest of it.

Its tiny eyes were surrounded by large
black rings due to fatigue, for its
guilty conscience hardly ever allowed
it to sleep.

It was usually damp and sticky for it
wept a grat deal. It was consumed
by self-pity, which it this case was
perfectly justified.

It was capable of making only two sorts
of noises, both of them nasty.

The first was a choked gurgling,
reminiscent of faulty drains. It made
this noise when it had succeeded in
doing something particularly atrocious.

The second was a thin shriek suggestive
of fingernails on blackboards. It made
this noise when it had been prevented from
doing something particularly atrocious.

Fortunately, it was unable to walk.

It had never been given a name since
no-one cared to talk about it. When it
was absolutely necessary to do so, it
was referred to as the Beastly Baby.

Dangerous objects were left about in the
hope that it would do itself an injury,
preferably fatal.

But it never did, and instead, hacked
up the carpets with knives.

Or burnt enormous holes in the upholstery
with acid.

Or shot bric-à-brac off the tables.

A day in the broiling sun had no other
effect than to turn it a horrid purple.

When it was taken bathing, it always
floated back to shore, festooned with
slimy green weed.

In public places some officious person
was certain to point out that it was
in danger of being left behind.

Inevitably, a policeman was looking on
whenever it was just about to be
momentarily set down on a doorstep.

In the meantime it grew larger and older
every day, and what this would
eventually lead to, no-one liked to think.

Then one day it was taken on a picnic.

It was set on an exposed ledge some
distance from where the food was.

A few minutes later, a passing eagle
noticed it there.

The eagle, having never before been
presented with this classic opportunity
carried it off.

The Eagle found keeping hold of it more
difficult than he had expected.

He attempted to get a further grip on it
with his beak.

There was a wet sort of explosion,
audible for several miles.

And that, thank heavens! was the end
of the Beastly Baby.

— Edward Gorey

 

Amphigorey Too