Dinner and a Monster
For our first date I took her to see a kaiju.
We sat on a hilltop overlooking the city. Skyscraper lights twinkled in the night. Other couples sat on the hill with picnic blankets, waiting.
The beast came ashore at 5:37p.m., about five minutes earlier than the newsman predicted. Taller than a skyscraper, its slimy tendrils hung from its snout, as they wiggled in the cold night air. Clawed arms hung on both sides of its colossal, scaly frame. And the eyes; round oceans of black, with no light or conscious.
It stepped out of the water. The ground shook, and she jumped with the first tremor.
“Do you think they got everyone got out of the city?” Her voice was breathy, and soft, and sweet, and anxious, and everything I’d ever wanted.
“I think so.” I said. I didn’t really know, but I’m sure most of them got out. A few may have been left behind by accident. A few may have wanted to stay. A few always want to stay. One day, I will be one of the ones who stays. Maybe she will be too.
The beast entered the city, and punched a skyscraper. My heart raced. Her breathing was faster, and we were both shaking. The beast’s foot slammed down on a gas station. Flames enveloped his foot, as his clawed fingers ripped furniture out of buildings.
“You know,” She said, “They’ve never figured out why they attack the cities.”
I moved closer to her. I know why they attack the cities. I can’t prove it, but I can feel it, the way you feel air, and sunlight.
They hate cities. They hate people. They hate how we live. They’re sincere in their hatred, honest in ways we never could be. They’re free to do whatever they want, and we are not. I love them. And I hoped she loved them too.
Metal and concrete rained down on distant streets. We listened, and heard the screams of those left behind. I moved closer until our shoulders touched. She didn’t flinch, go stiff, or move away. She let me stay.
An enormous arm rammed through an office building. Slimy tentacles ripped apart windows and walls, eating those who tried to hide inside. Wet chewing sounds echoed through the night air. We trembled together on the hill and it hurt so good.
The beast pushed a tower over. It fell and shook the earth. A cloud of dust covered the city like a fog. She moaned and turned to me. Her eyes glowed, her lips quivered, and her breathing was hard.
“Is it always like this?” She asked. We both had tears in our eyes.
“Yes.”
It’s better, now that you’re here, I thought. Now I could share it with someone.
Her arms wrapped around me, and my arms wrapped around her. She was soft, shaking, panting. Our lips touched, as the beast let out a deafening roar. The sound shook the air and we tumbled to the ground.
