November 11, 2009

As of yet untitled (inaantok na)

Feeble images, fed in flashes, assaulted the quiet bus ride. A behemoth in the stairs. A nori-green kaiju posed in that corner where the perpendicular stairs met. Of small hands grasping the hellion by its fat scaly tail. Thrusting it forward, as far as her frail arms can reach. Empty of armalite toy or a plastic espada, but she possess the beast and she's undefeatable. A carton box, big, labeled with words: LEMON-UNSO, FRAGILE, YOKOHAMA, JAPAN; the dragon came in it. Chopping boards, knives set, hot plates, body soap, olive oil, pureed garlic, loofah, dog-shaped slippers, power drill, saw, Packard Bell CPU, Nintendo64, and there it is, the leviathan sleeping quietly on its side. "Wow!", the other child, a boy, shouted in glee. A gift from his old man which will later be used against him by his ate. "Don't resist dictatorship or this will consume you." Instantly, he'll shut up. Until one day, their mother gave it to the basurero. Protests did not come, when the truth of his monster but a pitiful plastic reached the boy's comprehension and the girl is already perfecting her next weapon: blackmail.

It lived up to its purpose, I say. I hope that the next person it found taught it new tricks.

The behemoth, kaiju, beast, dragon, leviathan, monster.

"Gojira! Gojira!", a Japanese shouts in the background.

I love that movie.

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