The Monsters are Coming
The Beast is getting tired of this city's noise. It's aggravating. The Beast just wants some quiet. Its head aches and it's hungry--it already demolished and devoured the contents of three hot dog stands. It's been chased by cars. Its been chased by shouting men with little stinging weapons.
It couldn't make itself eat them. That was a waste of good meat.
It crouches now in a tangle of brush and trees in Grant Park, watching a trio of boys by the water. One of them holds a kitten, several months old, by the back of its neck. The cat yowls as the boy dips it into the water, flailing and hissing.
The Beast rumbles.
Forget sleeping.
It's hungry again.
It couldn't make itself eat them. That was a waste of good meat.
It crouches now in a tangle of brush and trees in Grant Park, watching a trio of boys by the water. One of them holds a kitten, several months old, by the back of its neck. The cat yowls as the boy dips it into the water, flailing and hissing.
The Beast rumbles.
Forget sleeping.
It's hungry again.