Shortzilla

by Ari Collins

“Okay, sweetie, how do we disable it?” I said from our hiding place behind the flat-screen. The 4-foot lizard creature bypassed my CD collection (thank god), but torched my stereo with its plasma breath. That was $400, plus the Bjork album I’d had in there. “And you’re gonna pay for that.”“I’m sorry, Ryan honey,” Mark said. “Ryan Ryan Bo Bryan. Please don’t hit me.”

“I’ll wait until after you shut this thing off.”

“Wonderful. Great. Anyway, to disable it, you’ve gotta sing the Ode to Joy. In German. That will paralyze it. Then it should be the eighth blue button down in the panel below its fifth tail-spine.”

“Oh. That’s all?” I said. And since Mark couldn’t carry a tune, I’d have to do it.

“Yeah,” he said sheepishly. “Next time I design a Japanese monster, I’m going to just put an OFF button on a remote.”

The creature took a large bite out of our drapes, then crushed our Wiimote underfoot.

“Next time?” I shook my head and stepped out from behind the TV. “Freude schöner Götterfunken, Tochter aus Elysium…”

Back to Ari’s Microfiction.

Or you could go a step further up to Ari’s Fiction.

Or all the way back to Air Theremin.

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