My Cardboard Balcony

Wife of Godzilla by Belinda Roddie Look at you, little lady betrothed to a terrorist laden with scales, his message a guttural roar as he topples the towers of Tokyo for - why? - Just because it's a scream. Don't be hasty in filing any divorce papers. The honeymoon phase was nice when he carried you on a joyride while he tore into skyscrapers, shaking the Japanese land more than earthquakes. He gave you a rose from an scared woman's garden. You'll get used to married life. He'll have his demolition job, and you'll be his liability agent, lawsuits a-plenty on your desk in a little office made of the bricks of old buildings. He designed it himself. The sly green devil. Maybe tomorrow he'll take you out for sushi at a caved in bar.

"My knee's badly bruised, and the lump just keeps getting bigger! Isn't that just SWELL?" I felt my head make contact with the desk. Bernard was beaming, scooting around the office space with his slacks hiked up to reveal his punny injury. I heard our sales supervisor crow from his cubicle in the far right corner. "You kill my inner child, Bernard!" "Oh, suck it up, Lawrence, you think it's hilarious!"