BORRRRING. That’s how I’d describe the first 13 years of my life. Don’t get me wrong . . . living at Mr. Shelley’s Orphanage for Lost and Neglected Children® wasn’t ALWAYS bad. But, more often than not, life was just a big ol’ heaping helping of boredom.

Thankfully, Year #14 made up for it all. Which is why I’m writing this journal. Because Year #14 needs to be remembered (or at least not forgotten).

So, in case you were wondering, my future self, here’s what you looked like then . . .

Hmm . . . you know, looking back, I can kind of see why I never got adopted. I suppose I made an odd first impression. Something about me just doesn’t quite match. Or, actually, a lot of things don’t:

1. My right eye is blue and my left is green.

2. I have short fingers on one hand and giant ones on the other.

3. One leg is longer than the other.

4. My feet are way too big for my legs (not to mention two completely different sizes!).

Sure, not everyone noticed these “qualities” the first time they saw me. But anyone who spent time with me, like say, trying to decide if they wanted to take me home, saw them eventually.

Growing up at Mr. Shelley’s Orphanage for Lost and Neglected Children®, I thought a lot about getting a family. I used to daydream all the time that somewhere out there I had the HUGEST family in the world. But Mr. Shelley, the orphanage director, never figured out who left me behind. Mr. Shelley always told me that he found me lying on a blanket in a box.

He called me John Doe . . . J.D. for short.

Although I wasn’t the greatest orphan, Mr. Shelley would be the first to tell you that he wasn’t the greatest orphanage director. For example, I was the ONE AND ONLY orphan at Mr. Shelley’s orphanage. The place wasn’t exactly what you’d call successful.

In fact, the place was GOING OUT OF BUSINESS!

One day, Mr. Shelley got a letter. The power company said they’d be shutting off the power sometime in the next 24 hours.

And that’s when this monster mystery started . . .

“That’ll do it,” said Mr. Shelley from inside his office. “I guess this is the last time I’ll see this place. Or it would be, if I could see anything with the lights shut off!”

I went into his office and handed him a flashlight.

“Thank you, J.D.,” said Mr. Shelley. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you. But I suppose I am about to find out.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t a better director, J.D.,” he said, the corners of each eye sprouting a tear. “Sorry I couldn’t find you a family. Sorry I failed at yet another business and can’t repay my brother-in-law the money he loaned me to open this orphanage. Sorry I have to move to Las Vegas and work in his ice cream truck to pay back what I owe.”

Mr. Shelley shivered at the thought.

“Don’t panic, sir,” I told him. “I’ll figure something out. I promise.”

“You always say that,” said Mr. Shelley. “And you always do it, too. Without you, this orphanage would have gone out of business a long time ago. I always said you were my right-hand man.”

He had always said that. I had always thought that was weird, since my LEFT hand is way bigger and stronger than my RIGHT.

“You were the one keeping this place afloat,” he continued. “I was just holding you back. It’s probably better for you that we go our separate ways. But before we do . . .”

Mr. Shelley used the flashlight to find a box under his desk.

“The bank is going to repossess the building and everything in it. We’re only allowed to take our personal stuff. This is yours,” Mr. Shelley said, putting the box on his desk. “This is the box I found you in outside the orphanage.”

The only thing inside the box was a blanket.

“You were lying on that when I found you at the door,” said Mr. Shelley proudly. “You never forget your first orphan. I remember it like it was yesterday.”

I couldn’t say I remembered that, but then, I was just a baby. I picked up the blanket to take a closer look. The blanket reeked of must and dust.

I let out a sneeze.

“Oh my!” exclaimed Mr. Shelley.

“It’s no big deal,” I shrugged. “Just my allergies.”

But Mr. Shelley wasn’t looking at me. He was gaping at the bottom of the box. Underneath where the blanket had been was a book.

“Well, what do you know about that!” exclaimed Mr. Shelley. “I never even thought to look under the blanket.” Then he sighed. “Shows you what a bad orphanage director I was.”

I opened the book. It was a journal (kind of like the one I’m writing in now). Only someone had already filled all the pages of this one. And as I flipped through them, a photograph fell out. It must have been stuck in between the pages. I picked it up.

It was a photo of a baby being held by . . . FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER!

Not that there’s anything strange about that. I had seen plenty of photos of Frankenstein’s Monster.

A while ago, maybe ten years — or no, I think it was almost fifteen years ago — Frankenstein’s Monster made a BIG SPLASH before disappearing without a trace. No one had seen or heard from him since.

From what I remembered reading about him, Frankenstein’s Monster hadn’t been a bad sort of monster. (Not like the Mummy — that guy left a big mess in the middle of town a couple years ago!)

On the back of the photo was a note:

I looked at the baby again. Even though he couldn’t have been more than a couple months old, I could see that one of the baby’s legs was shorter than the other. His left hand was way bigger than his right. And he had one green eye and one blue one.

That baby was me! HOLY CRUD . . .