Flyover City! A Novel (with Superheroes)

15. Giant Monster Attack!

I've always been a huge cheerleader when it comes to my hometown. When somebody bemoans the Queen City's supposed lack of culture, I'm the first one to get right up in their face, pointing them in the direction of the Denver Art Museum, or the performing arts complex (not that I ever go, myself, but I can tell you how to get there, if you're interested.) You say you can't find any good ethnic food in town? I'll take you out for a big bowl of authentic pork ramen, myself. It's sort of my thing, my mission. I'm, like, the Mile High Emissary. Julie, your cruise director. I really should get a paycheck for all my efforts.

And then, last night happens: the first malphysical occurrence ever documented in the state of Colorado. In the whole four corners region. And it didn't happen in Denver. Not even in Boulder.

Freakin' Manitou Springs. Wiccan priestesses. Renaissance Fair groupies. New Age mountain folk. I mean, it's not so much that I have anything against Manitou. It's just - come on. Denver's been waiting for this to happen for over 60 years now. I've been waiting for this...

***

I was in the shower when my phone rang. I pulled it off my sink and checked the number. Spliff. He could leave a message.

Water, off. Teeth, brushed. I was taking a deep whiff, making certain that I had sufficiently washed away that certain eau de-doo-da-day that permeates my body after a workout, when the phone rang again.

Spliff, again. Why does he bother? He knows that after my eight hour shift, the merest ring is enough to make me physically ill.

My building's buzzer wasn't working, so I was trying to keep the line open for Nora. We were gonna hang out at my place, maybe rent a movie. Just, like, friends. Anyway, that's not important.

The phone rang again. Jesus.

"Dude, the fuck?" I barked in the mouthpeice.

"Dude, dude... I know, right? Be cool. I'm almost there."

There? "There where?"

"Your place! Relax, it's not like I'd go without you."

"Whoa. Wait a minute... what? I'm hanging out with Nora, tonight..."

"Oh, really?"

"Just, as friends, okay? It's no big... wait, what's going on?"

At his insistence, I padded out to my living room and turned on the TV. In the movies, as soon as someone turns on a set, the exact information they're looking for comes up instantly. In the real world, I guess there's just too much else going on. Spliff began chanting "Channel 2! Channel 2! Channel 2!"

Ah, yes: "News on the Deuce". The talking head seemed even more vapid than usual, just sitting there, listening intently to her earpiece. She was "off", probably because there was no time to rehearse, no footage to cut to yet. Finally:

"Reports are coming in that it's some sort of monster - a mutant dinosaur hybrid. Experts are speculating that it may have come from a Yakuza-run kaiju farm off the coast of Japan..."

By the time I managed to drag my jaw back up off the floor and throw on a pair of jeans, Spliff was honking at me from outside.

***

If you're not impressed by Denver's big city credentials - our professional sports teams and varied cultural attractions - I advise you to experience Southbound I-25 on any given weekday, anytime after 4 pm. A poisonous, twisting snake of a thoroughfare, I-25 is as busy as any street in Florida that leads to the front door of the Magic Kingdom. The difference is that I-25 doesn't seem like it's ever going to actually lead to any place of any consequence. Just a two-lane existential crisis. Limbo. The Bardo realm.