You Always Hurt the One(s) You Love

A man walked into his kitchen. It was a Saturday morning, and he was hoping to greet the day with a nice cup of hot tea. The recent workweek had been particularly taxing, so the man was looking forward to a restful 48 hours away from the office. Everything would be perfect. His phone was disconnected, his laptop was shut down, and there were enough groceries in the refrigerator to last until Monday. Indeed, the man had no other objective than to lounge about on the couch all weekend, in his underwear, listening to old 45s and catching up on past issues of his favorite music magazines. What ecstasy! But then the rumbling started: softly at first, until soon the entire apartment was juddering like a rickety subway train. Taking a deep breath, the man wobbled over to the window to have a peek. Off in the distance, through the faint clouds of rising smoke, he could see a disappointing and all-too-familiar shape lumbering haphazardly across the skyline: that of the beastly nuisance known only as “Godzilla.” Oh, how the man hated living in Tokyo. He especially hated these little visits, which seemed to happen every summer or so, when traffic and tourism were bad enough as it was. Why no one else in the city seemed to care was beyond him. Strangely enough, some of the citizens even claimed that the giant lizard was Tokyo’s “protector”; however, protectors, as far as the man was concerned, weren’t likely to create billions of dollars’ worth of property damage, now, were they? That would be like calling a tsunami a “refreshing shower” or “not that bad, really.” The man sighed. Frustrated by the untimeliness of it all, he stepped away from the window and began readying his tea again. Soon, the 40-story wrecking ball would be gone, and life would return to what Tokyo considered “normal” after a radioactive monster attack. The man was just about to pour himself a steaming cup when suddenly a loud explosion knocked the kettle straight out of his hand. Incensed, he rushed back to the window for another look. Over in the Shibuya shopping district, a dark plume rose ominously in the air. Realizing what had happened, the man couldn’t believe his eyes. Every muscle in his body twitched uncontrollably. He was now trembling in unison with his home. The unthinkable had just occurred: Godzilla had destroyed Tower Records. The horror! “That does it,” the man said angrily, heading towards the closet to grab his coat. “I guess I’ll have to deal with that son-of-a-@#$^% myself…”

© 2014 Tony Vicory.

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