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Alex Haze
Genre:
Humour
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The Oracle
Hotten than a thousand pastries from Greggs haha
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pig in the rain
Hahahaha this needs a stage
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Content Rating: 18+
Posted 4th July 2014
Godzilla visits a Yoga Retreat
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Godzilla and yoga, need you know more?

Chapter 1

Godzilla and yoga, need you know more?

In honor of the new Godzilla movie, which was awesome, I wrote a story about Godzilla. He's depressed, and has a difficult relationship with his wife, Mrs Godzilla. Maybe yoga can help.

Chapter 1

Godzilla attempted in vain to put the cereal back in the cupboard for the seventh time that morning. But his arms were too short to reach. He screamed, and the puny windows of his one bedroom apartment shattered into dust.


His wife peered nervously round the door of the kitchen. “Please calm down.” She squeaked. “You know what the doctor said about your blood pressure.”


Godzilla snorted. He was sure his doctor is bullshitting him. How could a cold blooded reptile like himself even have high blood pressure?


“I am calm!” He shouted.


“Then why are you shouting?” His wife asked.


“Because it’s inner calm.” He roared.


“I don’t need this right now. I’m late for work.”


Godzilla stomped into the bathroom, and tried to tie his tie. He managed to lasso the tie around his neck, but he just couldn’t get the front part to be longer than the back part. “Oh screw this!” He yelled, ripping the tie in two with his mighty claws. He unbuttoned his collar, took a post it note from his bureau, wrote ‘buy clip on’, and stuck it to the fridge with a magnetic smiley. He drank a silo of cold coffee, and then left for work.


...


“Late again?” Mothra sneered.


Godzilla fantasized about tearing out Mothra’s throat with his jaws every morning. He used to be Mothra’s supervisor, until Kong said that they needed someone younger running the division. Kong literally said to Godzilla’s face that he was too old for the job. Which was rich coming from a silverback.


“And where’s your tie?” Mothra asked snidely.


“I got mud on it. So I took it off.” Godzilla replied, his eyes shifting uneasily on the skyline of the city in front of him.


“Then go wash it in the sea.” Mothra said.


“I can’t.”


“Why not?”


“Because I didn’t actually bring my tie.”


“I see. You know that our company requires a certain standard of professionalism.”


Godzilla clenched and unclenched his fists as Mothra verbally dressed him down.


“You will be provided with five ties, one for every day of the week. And they will be coming out of your pay packet. If you show up not wearing a tie again, then you’ll be put on clean up duty. Any questions?”


Godzilla mumbled a question.


“Sorry, what was that?”


“Can they, can they be clip on ties?”


Mothra screeched with laughter, and flew towards the city that they were scheduled to terrorize. Godzilla followed him on foot, kicking a school bus into the ocean on his way. If he had wings, he thought, then he’d put that overgrown moth in his place.


Mothra started demolishing all the up-town, important looking buildings, as he always did. Godzilla was left to terrorize a small bakery, with a faded, peeling sign that read ‘Greggs’. He didn’t recognize it, so it must have opened before the nuclear winter. He opened the door, stuck his head in and roared. A few people looked round, and then went back to ordering their lava hot rancid meat pastry pockets.


Godzilla screamed, steam pouring out of his nostrils. He shoved a claw into the bakery, and pinched a customer’s pastry.


“Hey!”


Godzilla chuckled, and then dropped the pastry into his mouth. It cauterized the tip of his tongue. Godzilla doubled over in pain, and kicked the bakery. But he stubbed his toe on the corner, and fell over, writhing on the floor in agony. When he looked up, the patrons of the bakery, and Mothra, were laughing at him. He tried to stand up, but his tiny arms couldn’t reach. Then everything went fuzzy, fading into darkness.


Godzilla awoke in a hospital room, with a mad scientist peering over him.


“Ah, you’re awake. I’m Dr Apocalypse. You’ve had a very close call, so relax and don’t try to breathe fire. Your heart attack seems to have been caused by stress. Specifically stress brought about by failure at work, existential dread, and sexual inadequacy.”


Dr Apocalypse pointed to a computer monitor, that showed a flashing graphic of a dinosaur in a business suit, with his trousers round his ankles, crying.


“I suggest you try this place, my wife swears by it. That’ll be a fifty thousand credits.”


Godzilla looked at the card Dr Apocalypse placed on his bed. It contained a picture of a beautiful woman touching her ears with her ankles, and the words ‘Swami Deva Yoga Retreat’.



Godzilla banged on the door of the yoga retreat with his head. He was already late, and felt like running away. The front door opened, and metal claws grabbed at his body, pulling him in through the threshold, tearing off his clothes and replacing them with pajamas and a dressing gown. The claws him into a room where a group of people were sat cross legged on mats, around a woman that looked like the contortionist on the business card he’d been given, but slightly older.


“For any latecomers,” She said, “My name is kirsty, and I’ll be your yoga instructor. This is a safe space, so feel free to share any questions or comments you may have.”


Godzilla raised his hand.


“Yes, Mr… Godzilla?”


“Right now, I want to eat your spine, Kirsty.”


“Ok, I’m sensing some negative energy in the room.” Kirsty replied. “I’ll go get the talking cushion.”


While Kirsty was out of the room, Godzilla stood at the back looking at the people sitting in the middle. Middle aged, middle class, middle minded, middle section heavy. He didn’t bother making small talk with them.


Kirsty came back holding a pink cushion with a unicorn embroidered on it. She passed the cushion to Godzilla.


“Why don’t you tell us what’s bothering your chakras?” She said.


Godzilla demolished the pillow, while looking at Kirsty the whole time.


“I think someone needs some… pampering.” Kirsty snapped her fingers. The claws attacked Godzilla from behind, giving him a shiatsu massage.


“Alright!” He yelled. “I’ll be good!”


Kirsty snapped her fingers again. The claws went away.


“Now, we’re going to try meditation.” Kirsty said.


Godzilla sighed audibly.


“Find a mat, and sit down with your legs crossed.”


Godzilla tried crossing one leg over the other, and fell over. The shockwaves launched a monk into a tree. He tried crossing over the other leg, but the same thing happened. Kirsty growled, and walked over to Godzilla.


“Look, it’s not that difficult. Anyone can learn yoga. So do us all a favour, and find your inner peace.”


Kirsty pulled Godzilla up and instructed him to sit on his knees. Godzilla found a stable position.


“Now. Sit with your spine plates straight, folding your claws gently in your lap. Close your eyes. I can see you squinting. Right, now imagine that light is entering your body through your breath.”


Godzilla sat, listening to Kirsty’s calming voice. He felt ridiculous at first, like he was wasting time, like he was wasting his entire life, like the world was against him. But then. He felt something. A hot sensation, radiating from the small of his back. It was quite nice. But then, the heat began to expand, and envelop his entire body. The heat became unbearable, hotter than a thousand pasties from Greggs. He was sweating and panting. From the heat of his back came a pair of wings.


Godzilla floated upwards to the ceiling, still holding the yoga pose. He marvelled at his new wings. He had finally evolved.The other participants opened their eyes and looked up, singing “Ah, ah, ah, ah!”


“See!” Kirsty said, “He’s got it. Everyone copy Godzilla.”


Godzilla burst through the roof of the yoga retreat, while the others tried in vain to flap their arms, and float cross legged to the ceiling.


...


Godzilla flew to the city that Mothra was decimating. The city was ablaze, and people were running around screaming, as Mothra attempted to pollinate a clocktower.


Godzilla flew up behind him, and surprised him with a roar that shook the concrete.


“What do you think you’re doing?” Mothra asked, turning round.


Godzilla was unsure what to do next. He took a knife out of his pocket, and stabbed Mothra 37 times.


“Ah, help! He’s trying to kill me! Help me someone! It hurts so much!” Mothra screamed.


The people running through the burning city stopped and looked up.


“Someone should call the police or something.” An onlooker said.


“Erm. I’m kind of busy right now.” Said another witness, “What with my tax returns and everything.”


The people ran away, diverting their eyes from Mothra’s gargantuan corpse.


Godzilla cleaned the knife of Mothra’s remains, threw it in a skip, and started to run home. He wondered how he would tell his wife that he had killed his boss, and needed to find a new job.