“Get the fuck out of here, you ugly freak!” A red faced child yelled before lobbing a rock at Catzilla’s head. His friends snickered as they ran off and ducked into an alley.
The rock bounced off of Catzilla’s chest and clacked against the asphalt below, but it sent pain stabbing through his heart. It wasn’t because of that kid. Catzilla could level entire city blocks with a flick of his paw and breathe atomic fire from his mouth. Why would he care what one brat thought about him when he could pick him up and throw him into orbit? No, it was the fact that he could never just walk down the street and be one of the crowd.
Catzilla looked at the pathetic little humans that swarmed around at his feet. Nobody cowered in fear when they walked around the corner. Nobody called out their names and asked them to smash two pickup trucks together. None of them had road crews following them around, hastily patching up the fractured streets and sidewalks left behind with each of their steps. Any one of these people could leave their house and come back a day later and not raise an the entire time. Catzilla was walking to the store for some groceries and there were already two news helicopters circling overhead.
Catzilla reached the busy intersection of 8th and Broadway and looked both ways before crouching under the hanging traffic signals. He crawled through the intersection and was almost to the other side of the street, but a silver minivan was careening down the street and showed no signs of stopping. Catzilla held out his hand, meaning to steer the vehicle away from him, but his massive arms smashed into the vehicle and sent it flying. The van smashed into the side of a building, erupting in flames.
“Jesus Christ, just…” Catzilla growled at the crowd of fearful onlookers that now choked the street. “Just help that guy out, I’ve got somewhere to be.”
The booed and hissed, pelting Catzilla with cans and shoes and any other easily launched projectiles they had handy. Catzilla crawled to the other side of the street, got to his feet, and ran, leaping over cars and weaving between lightpoles as he tried to get away from the freshly formed mob.
Catzilla looked back, expecting the all too familiar sight of pitchforks and torches, but was relieved to see that he wasn’t being pursued by any manner of angry townspeople. He sat down in the street, leaning against the side of a building to catch his breath. He heard a door open and slam shut right beside him.
“Yo, what the hell are you doing?” Said the young man who now stood on the sidewalk, staring up at Catzilla.
“Look, I’ll get going in a second, just give me a second,” Catzilla sighed.
“Wait, hold on, do I recognize you from somewhere?” The man asked. “Some kind of TV show or somethin’?”
“Nah, you’ve probably got me confused with somebody else. I was just going out for a walk and… uhm, well, I-”
“Yeah, you’ve just got one of those faces, I guess.”
“I guess.” Catzilla leaned forward and started to push himself up to his feet. “I guess I’m gonna get going.”
“Wait, hold up. We’re throwing like a party or something if you wanna hang out. We’ve got plenty to drink if you want something.”
“I probably shouldn’t,” Catzilla sighed. “Why would you want someone like… like me at your party anyway? Did you want to destroy a small city or kill a giant 3 headed turtle or something?”
“Uh, I dunno, man. You just seem alright or whatever. I mean it’s cool if you don’t wanna, just gotta say no.”
Catzilla sat back. The washed-out brick of the old building creaked. “Well, I guess I can stick around for a little while.”
“Alright, man. Heads up.” The man tossed Catzilla a can.
“Thanks.” Catzilla poked the side of the can with his claw and poured the drop of cheap beer onto his tongue.
“Damn, dude, you know how to party! I can already tell you’re gonna fit in here.”
Catzilla kicked his feet up on top of a van and smiled. “That sounds nice.”