This is Godzilla’d, a 5-minute (or less) monologue which (along with Bull, Sara and Frog in the Fry Pan—a Bollywood song about micromanagement) was part of the multi-playwright A View From Moving Windows, produced by Parramatta Riverside Theatre in 2012. Directed by Augusta Supple.
Godzilla’d is spoken by Kira, a female office worker, 30+ or thereabouts.
Layout and punctuation suggest rhythm and delivery.
It’s dark outside.
Travelling home from work on the train, Kira gazes out of the window. At the play of reflections on the glass.
Traces an outline with her finger.
The memory comes slowly. Softly.
Bedtime. Me age 6 getting on for 7, in Mrs McKenzie’s B and B.
Door shut, grown-ups far away in the guest lounge.
Bedroom curtains half open—big mistake.
The gap between turns lizard-shaped, splatters the walls atomic-green.
Fearsome wind and crazyquilt and me all small and human
trying to shrink.
While the giant lizard grows gianter. Over the ceiling, across the floor.
Eyes aglow, radiating purpose.
I’m wrapped up tight in mutant reptile breath,
stuffed with scales and bits of claw,
and I can smell his dream
that’s dreaming all of me …
Til Mum’s tipsy shadow at the door—checking in to see:
(whispers) Night-night, sweetheart.
That’s all it was, Dad says, a shadow.
And he makes a grown-up smile into his scrambled egg and mushroom. While Mum dodgems about the breakfast buffet, with an eye to lunch,
slipping fruit, sandwich-makings into serviettes and pockets.
This time it’s me at the door—ready to warn Mum in case a Mrs McKenzie-shape should suddenly appear.
(whispers) Watch out, sweetheart.
The monster is loose. A spawn of chaos and metaphor. In Tokyo all the poor people fall into a crevice. Godzilla is staggering.
The monster is back. A tsunami rushes over
the seaside towns react.
In the waters off Fukushima the creatures are radioactive.
Dad checks us out of the B and B. Lugs suitcases to the car and waves—
Away the sea, the fish and chip shop, the fairground animals.
Mum and Dad up front, heading for home. Monday morning work as usual.
Me in the back seat picking flakes
of Godzilla DNA from under my fingernails
like the scientists on TV.
© Noëlle Janaczewska