GIVE ME MONSTER
The Gospel Of Monster
Sum be greater than these realities
When Dad was my age, he told me and my older brother about James Cameron’s 1986 magnum opus, Aliens.
I remember where and when we were: somewhere on the back lawn, probably 1991 — that’s the smell of the memory, definitely still the 80s, which we didn’t really sober up from until 2000.
But it could have been the year 2, a father at the fire telling his sons vital stories about life: inevitable horror and maybe survival.
Dad talked about losing contact with a colony, about marines travelling there to find out what happened, about the encounters they have with 7-foot insect monster things, then he said, “But there’s more… There’s a queen monster. She’s huge.”
“How huge?” we said.
“As big as the house.”
Joe and I looked at the house and marveled. We imagined something that big killing us. We were thrilled.
“When can we watch it!” we said.
“When you’re older,” said Dad.
We held our breaths and farts and strained to grow older. As usual, Joe got there first, but eventually I did too. We watched Aliens and discovered what we’d already suspected:
