☕️ Alice’s Mad Tea Party Presents:
🫖 Alice Spills the Tea: Frankenstein: The Monster That Was Never Meant to Be
Alice clinked her teacup again, a wicked smile spreading across her face. “Ah, Frankenstein. You think you know this tale. A mad scientist, a stitched-up monster—maybe you’ve even seen the movies. But let me spill the real tea, darling: Victor Frankenstein was the true monster in this story, and his creation? Well, he was the misunderstood hero.”
She leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Victor Frankenstein, the man who thought he could play God—and failed miserably. He was so obsessed with conquering death, with defying nature itself, that he didn’t stop to think about the consequences. I mean, really, darling, who decides to bring life into something that wasn’t meant to be alive, and then acts shocked when things go… terribly wrong?”
Alice let out a soft chuckle, swirling the tea. “Victor created the monster. He pieced it together with bits and scraps from graveyards and slaughterhouses, trying to make something that was never meant to exist. But here’s the kicker—when his creation came to life, instead of seeing it as a masterpiece, a miracle, Victor recoiled. He ran. He abandoned it.”
She took a long, dramatic sip, letting the silence hang for a moment. “And that’s where the true tragedy begins. The monster? He didn’t ask to be created. He didn’t choose his form, his fate. But he tried to fit into a world that hated him. He searched for love, for companionship, but was rejected at every turn. And what did he get in return for his efforts? Hatred, isolation, and violence.”
Her voice dropped, heavy with emotion. “I mean, really, can you blame him? Who wouldn’t turn vengeful if everyone treated you like a freak? The poor thing didn’t even have a name. He was simply referred to as ‘the monster.’ And that, dear reader, is where the true tragedy lies. Not in the monster, but in the man who created him. Victor Frankenstein was the one who made him a monster. He was the one who played God and then abandoned his creation to suffer.”
Alice’s eyes sparkled with dark glee. “And let’s not forget that Victor was just as much a monster in his own right. He was selfish, obsessed, and obsessed with his own ego. He thought he could control life, but it was life that ended up controlling him.”
She sat back, tapping her finger against her teacup with a sly grin. “So, darling, the real question is this: Was Frankenstein’s monster truly a monster? Or was he just a reflection of his creator’s hubris? You see, my dear, in this tale, both Victor and his creation were monsters. And in the end, neither could escape the consequences of their actions.”
Alice’s grin twisted into something darker, like a whispered secret. “But let’s not be too quick to judge, my dears. After all, we’ve all been stitched together by something… haven’t we?”
