largemarge
George hated his life. Every day after work he would get into his car, drive to the nearest Starbucks for an overpriced coffee, and then cry in his car. His life had amounted to nothing more than lattes and expense reports.
He put on his helmet and his goggles. His gloves were in his mouth while he strapped himself to the rocket. He put the gloves on, took a long, deep breath, and then he screamed. He never stopped; it just got to a point where he was so far away I couldn't hear him anymore.
The house began shaking from the ground up so, bravely, I ran to the basement to investigate. And there, in front of me, was the fiery shaky monster. She shook and she spit and she moaned and she whined.
I watched this movie with my mom about poisonous spiders once. The spider, which looked just like a tarantula, would bite you and then you would shrivel up and die. Your whole body was this gangly green skeleton. It's still hard to think about.