While people generally were horrified and disgusted by the abomination he had created, Frank N. Stein refused to believe it was a monstrosity. Indeed, in his mind the creature of his devising was potentially the paradigm of beauty and virtue.
But Frank N. Stein had no capacity for insight. He was unable to admit that his work was a reflection of himself. He was, it seems, blissfully unaware of having any shortcomings.
He decided to go to a dinner hosted by a Slavic scientist, Bladdy Mere Pooty, who was attempting to create conditions hospitable to generating a Phoenix.
No sooner had the meal begun than Frank N. Stein, ever the acme of tact and courtesy, began harshly and loudly criticizing Pooty's methods.
"Well," Pooty resonded archly, "I certainly wouldn't want it to turn out like your little experiment."
"Just wait. Heh heh," Frank N. Stein wittily answered, half-chewed chicken Cordon bleu and mashed potatoes dripping from his slack jaw all the while.
Eventually the monster tracked down Frank N. Stein rowing a boat in the formerly frozen far nothern latitudes. He cornered the alarmed scientist, announced that he was shunned by all humanity and very lonely, and demanded that Frank N. Stein make him a bride.
"Should be no problem, Bucko," chirped the ever-optimistic mad doctor. "Ya see, there's this other Mooslim country right next door to you..."
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