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Gamera is really neat, Gamera is full of meat. Lizzie The Dragon's Secret Diary:
A rampage of estrogen and murder.

Matt - 5.20.02

Lizzie's Secret Diary

July 27th

Dear Diary: I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but this morning I woke up to find that I'd transformed into a stories-tall dragon lizard, not unlike Godzilla. At first I thought it was a side effect of eating that rancid jar of half-sour pickles leftover from last October's cocktail party, but really, pickles don't turn people into dinosaurs.

I was going to check in with Doctor Netsie to see if he could diagnose what's happened to me, but a funny thing happened when I got to the hospital: I had this amazing, undeniable desire to smash the building into pieces using nothing more than my giant dragon fists. So I punched the building to the floor, totally disregarding anyone who may have been inside, and the next thing I knew, friggin' army tanks were surrounding me, shooting giant bullets at my giant green head. I just stepped on them and went on my way, but it really begs the question: how did the army get it's tanks to Minneapolis so fast?! I mean really. I know I'm some sort of apocalyptic thread now, but were the tanks really necessary? All they had to do was ask me to stop punching the emergency room. I'm a pretty agreeable girl.

August 7th

Dear Diary: It's been a strange week. Duh, I'm a giant lizard woman, of course it's been a strange week. You know what really sucks? Before I turned into Gamera, this really cute guy gave me his number when I was at Patty's surprise birthday party. So what am I supposed to do with it now? Call him? What am I supposed to say? 'Hey so-and-so, remember me? You gave me your number a few weeks ago, just wondering if you'd still like to meet up. By the way, I'm a hundred feet taller than I was when you last saw me, and there's a 50/50 chance I might eat you.' Yeah sure, that'll go over well.

I still haven't told my mother what's happened, mainly because I'm too big to pick up any phones. Finding a 10' pen was hard enough, believe me. She must be worried sick by now. I could really go for some of her beef stew. Man, I'm really hungry. I'll check back with you later, I'm gonna go eat a few mailmen or something.

August 26th

Dear Diary: Strangest thing happened today - I was in Chicago smashing a few buildings, and all of the sudden, this giant monkey jumps off the roof and starts punching me! How crazy is that? I was tempted to try getting to know him a little better, but all these jets started shooting at us and we ran in different directions. He was pretty cute, though.

You know what I find really odd? Okay, obviously, people are going to try to stop me if I keep breaking down buildings. I accept that, my bloodlust hasn't totally clouded my brain. But when all these army types come running at me with twinkie rifles, some of them actually put dynamite at the base of the buildings, totally annihilating them before I have the chance! What gives?! Are they trying to save the country, or start some sort of race with me? Either way, tomorrow I'm gonna play it safe and eat Detroit. It's not like anybody will really give a shit anyway.

August 29th

Dear Diary: Sorry, I can't write for long, I'm not feeling too well. I made the mistake of eating somebody's toilet last night, and let me tell you, I really wish people would fucking flush more often. I feel like complete and total crap, and every time I try to go to sleep, a helicopter starts dropping bombs on my head. Can't a girl get a little rest?

No sign of the monkey man yet, but word has it he's been destroying cities too. You're telling me this isn't a match made in heaven? I had this dream last night that we went to Vegas together, got hitched, and turned Bally's into rubble. I hope it comes true someday, cause my biological clock is beating faster than a speed addict's black heart and if I don't pop out a litter of little giant lizards soon, I'm gonna totally waste whatever maternal instincts I have left.

See ya later, I'm gonna go punch a boat to death.

September 6th

Dear Diary: I saw the monkey yesterday, FINALLY. He's named George. Apparently he used to be a used car salesman in Newark. Ugh, fucking Newark. Mental note: eat that city next week. Anyway, once we stopped punching each other across town, we got along famously. He's really sweet - he even let me eat most of the pedestrians we happened upon during our stroll through the park. I'm just praying he's not too good to be true. On the other hand, who else is he gonna shack up with?

September 8th

Dear Diary: Trouble in paradise. George keeps trying to make me look 'more feminine.' I hate that shit. He keeps telling me to put pink ribbons on my tail. I think he's afraid the world thinks I'm a guy, and he doesn't want to look swishy. It's like, HELLO George, you're a giant ape, they don't care about who you're fucking, they care about what political leaders you're eating. Get a grip. Besides, I LOATHE girls who go out of their way to doll themselves up to be more 'feminine.' Here's a clue, dolts - if you've got a snatch, you're a girl. Lipstick doesn't make a damn bit of difference.

So, to spite George, tomorrow I'm gonna take this big fat totally unladylike shit right in front of him. That'll show him who wears the pants in this relationship. Not that either of us wear pants, but you get the drift.

September 25th

Dear Diary: Sorry I haven't written in a while, been real busy eating things and destroying cities. Turns out I'm all over the news, which I guess is pretty cool. I just wish everyone would stop shooting at me. Why can't they just stand still in one spot, without weapons, so I won't have to go through a friggin' mousehunt every time I want food?

I dropped by Mom's last night. She took the news pretty well, as well as anyone could I guess, but she did ask that I not come back until I got this whole mess settled. Great, now even my own mother's turned on me. Guess I shouldn't have eaten Dad.

George and I got all philosophical last night, debating whether or not we were bad people because we keep wrecking the country and killing people. My argument was that nobody cares if they step on an ant, because they're so much smaller than us. So why should me and George care if we step on people? And please, how many kids spent their childhoods stomping on every anthill they saw? Just because human beings have propaganda like The Enquirer to spread their falsehoods doesn't mean they're any more important than ants. George thinks maybe we should stick to eating animals, like large tuna and stuff. Right, like I'm gonna go skinny dipping with a guy I've only been with for a few weeks. Guys are so typical. He's been getting on my nerves SO much lately. It used to be so fun breaking down buildings with him - now he's turned it into this big contest to see who can find hamburgers first. If I wanted competition in my lovelife, I'd just date that little soldier who keeps throwing TNT into the skyscrapers. At least he doesn't spend half the night breaking wind and eating bugs off himself.

October 1st

Dear Diary: We were in Pittsburgh last night, and wouldn't you know it, the city still has some drive-ins! George and I hid behind some trees and watched St. Elmo's Fire. I guess they were doing a retro night or something. Man what an annoying movie that is, if I had one wish, it's that I'll have the opportunity to eat Demi Moore before I die. Fortunately for her, her movie career is so dead and gone and she's so utterly forgotten that I have no idea where to find her. But don't think I won't try.

George was cute - he grabbed this big cement mixer, threw some people in it, and we pretended we had popcorn during the movie. We still haven't slept together yet. Kinda hard to find privacy when you're this tall. Besides, he's naked and I still can't see his goods. I still have my equipment...where's his? Let me find out I'm dating a giant sexless monkey drone. That'll be the perfect topper to these past few months.

October 31st

Dear Diary: Well, it's Halloween. Looks like me and George are pretty popular with the kids, cause half of them were dressed up like us. We were so touched by it that we only ate the kids dressed up like vampires and Jango Fett. It was so great because the kids were so full of sugar and chocolate, it was like eating a human bon-bon. If I'm still Godzilla come next Halloween, I'm gonna eat for twenty-four hours straight.

Believe me, it sure beats punching holes into apartment complexes looking for the sporadic bowl of fruit. Apples just go right through me.

November 5th

Dear Diary: George is off eating cars and bars. He's such a Debbie Harry nut. So while I've got some time, I think I'm gonna go all soft and pretend I'm 15 again by writing some bad poetry. I think that's why God invented diaries - so stupid chicks like me could write bad lyrics without being made fun of. Anyway, here it goes....I haven't done this in years.

I'm a big lizard chick, taller than church steeples
I spend most of the day, eating lots of people
My skin is green and I wear no clothes
But being naked is okay, as any nudist knows
I'm in love with a monkey who scratches his ass
Not sure if it's fleeting, or if it will pass
Sometimes I wish things were normal again
To be a normal girl, eating chips instead of men
I pass the time by crushing cities, breaking buildings, squashing lilies
And all the while I think to myself: 'gosh, this is silly!'

Wow, that sucked. Mental note: if I ever have a terminal illness, burn diary. George should be getting back soon, so I'm gonna go. I'm feeling kinda down. And if one more fucking car smashes into my foot, I swear to God, I'm gonna take it out on the entire state of Utah.

December 8th

Dear Diary: God, it's over between me and George. I'm too upset to talk about it now. I'll write tomorrow.

December 10th

Dear Diary: I became busy yesterday demolishing Tampa, sorry I'm late. Yeah, me and George aren't together anymore. Here's what happened:

Around mid-November, we were just going about our casual afternoon feedings, and everything seemed normal. I mean planes were shooting at us and stuff, they they always do that. No big concern, right? Well, I guess they started using better ammo, because as one of the planes are firing at George, all of the sudden he falls off a building. Obviously, I was hysterical. I jumped down 40 stories, breaking my ankle in the process, and as I'm running to see if he's alright...he starts SHRINKING! Within 10 seconds he's back to his human form, completely stark naked, covering his dick and ass and trying to get out of public view.

I didn't know what to do, it was just a totally terrifying situation. So I ate him. I guess, technically, that means we're not together anymore. Maybe I shouldn't have acted so impulsively, but christ, at the rate George ate bacon, I figure he had to be around 85% pork. How could I not eat him?

Just great. I'm gonna be a fucking lizard spinster my whole life.

December 18th

Dear Diary: I think I ate the Pope today. It was either him or a random clansman. Whatever, I'm pretty satiated.

February 12th

Dear Diary: I've decided to stop keeping a diary as of now. There's really nothing interesting going on. All I do is eat people and sinks, and break down buildings. It's boring even for me to read. Byebye diary!

Love, Lizzie the Dragon

- Matt
AIM: xecharchar

Only on UGO: A few more links to my UGO stories you might've missed: Attack of the Clones Review - Attack of the Clones Characters - Salton Sea Review


Jem: Truly Outrageous