It's happening. Again.
God, I hate this. I hate the pattern we slip into here whenever we fight. I end up stomping on a school bus or scorching a hospital with my breath, and the next day I feel like an idiot. An aggressive, unthinking idiot.
I don't like any of it. I don't like who I become when this happens. I'm better than that. Don't you think you're better than this too? Just once, let's try to resolve our conflict in a different way. I know you've scrambled the fighters, but maybe we can take a breath here and just talk it out.
Let me tell you how it is from my perspective. I'm not criticizing. I'm just telling you how I see things and how it makes me feel:
The first emotion that hits me when you drop an atomic depth charge onto my lair is confusion and anger. I'm in hibernation for thousands of years, tired, dehydrated, hungry, and then there is this loud noise, and suddenly everything is bright and fused together with the scorching heat. I emerge from the water, and I get tangled in the nets of some fishing boat. It makes me annoyed, and I just... I just lash out.
Next thing I know I am walking onto the shore, trying to find answers, and I've crushed a highway cloverleaf. By the time I know what's happened, someone is firing a barrage of rockets at me. Sure they bounce off my thick hide. But that doesn't mean they don't hurt. Anyway, by then it's war, and neither of us are in any mood to compromise.
I realize that this must be traumatic for you as well. You hear that an entire ship has vanished in the ocean, dozens are dead, and suddenly there's this 200 ft. prehistoric creature destroying roads and bridges just outside the city limits. Am I right? You have to look strong, and that makes you act in a hostile fashion.
And neither of us wins.
I see you're moving those howitzers in place, but I'm pleading with you to take a pause and hear me out. I think we've cleared the air, and I don't want to go back to the same place we always... OWW. Ow, that really stings. Please. Please don't do that again. I believe we can move beyond this, and... Okay, that wasn't helpful either. I want you to think about what you're doing, before -- MOTHRA ON A CORKBOARD, that HURT! Stop. STOP!
Okay, you know what? I tried. I hope you've got a good civil defense plan, because this time I'm gonna take out your whole goddamn city.
Poetry: Pieces of a Man - Jagged jigsaw pieces Tossed about the room, I saw my grandma sweeping With her old straw broom. But she didn’t know what she was doing. She could hardly ...