From different hiding places inside, the Munsters peered anxiously at the strange figure in front of their home. Peeking out through twin peepholes in the petrified oak door were Herman and Lily Munster, man and wife – Herman, who was often mistaken by outsiders for a modern model of Frankenstein’s monster, and Lily, whose jet-black hair set off a face strikingly un-lifelike in its paleness.
“Look at him! Look at that tan!” whispered Herman. “He must live in the sun!” He shuddered at the thought.
“And look at that nose – straight as a pin!” hissed Lily. “There’s no excuse for that. A good plastic surgeon could build up a hump on it in a jiffy.”
In his cellar workshop, squinting into the eye-piece of a periscope, Grandpa Munster spoke in a quivering whisper to his pet bat, Igor. Grandpa Munster, who at any given moment might bear a striking resemblance to either Genghis Khan, Jack the Ripper, or Mr. Hyde, was now appearing incognito, and looked a good deal like a kindly old gentleman who had just fulfilled his lifetime ambition to lace the world’s bedtime cocoa with arsenic.
“Look at those blue eyes!” said Grandpa with revulsion to Igor. “They’re enough to thaw the blood. I tell you, we’re in trouble!”
“Eeeeeek!” squeaked Igor.
“Quiet!” snarled Grandpa. “Or I’ll send you back to your cave.”
“Sqeeeee!” responded Igor.
In his upstairs bedroom, Eddie, son of Herman and Lily, stared out through a crack in the windowpane. Eddie had inherited his mother’s and father’s best features. Yet he was a personality in his own right, as shown by his satyr-like ears, a special distinction that neither Herman nor Lily could claim.
Eddie spoke in a trembling murmur to his hound, Spot, who, if it had not been for the wolf-shaped dark shadow against one wall, would have appeared to have been absent.
“Ten fingers and ten toes!” gasped Eddie. “He must have had the others removed just so he could go around scaring little kids!”
A blood-chilling howl filled the room. It was followed by a growl that was undoubtedly a question.
“Not yet,” replied Eddie. “But if he makes the wrong move – sic ‘im!”
Peering out from behind a parlor drape was Marilyn Munster, Herman and Lily Munster’s niece. Marilyn viewed the stranger with sympathy. She was cursed with the same affliction – rosy cheeks, bright sparkling eyes, slender construction, an absence of blemishes, ten fingers and ten toes, and warm blood. How Marilyn wished that she could be normal like her aunt and uncle and Eddie and Grandpa! And such was the size of Marilyn’s heart that she included this evil-appearing intruder in her wish.
The stranger standing at the curb studied the Munster home with irritation, unaware that he was being viewed with foreboding from inside.
He was a tall, slender, blue-eyed, ten-fingered and ten-toed, warm-blooded young man, clearly a native of Southern California (Hollywood Division), since he was garbed in a rainbow-hued Hawaiian shirt, riding breeches and beach sandals, topped off with an Alpine beanie.
The really odd thing about him was that he was regarding the Munster home with irritation rather than outright horror, as was usually the case.
The house was a replica of a Victorian mansion, conjuring up images of fog-shrouded moors and mournfully wailing night winds. Its thick-draped, arched windows, its massive structure, the fingerlike spires – all these helped to complete the image. One could imagine – or was it imagination? – a continuous stream of ghostly moanings and clankings emanating from within its dismal interior.
In other words, all in all, the Munster home looked to the stranger like a set for a Hollywood monster picture. And, believing it to be that, with light step and easy mind, he approached the entrance.