The Beast, Imperious Flame
She's big, she's mean, she's always in flames. She was once such a good girl. Her heart was so big, until it was empty. And now she's evil and cruel with the fire at the end of every heart. As her ribs open like a maw, she is set to devour the sweet and compassionate flesh of M and Katie. What lovely kids to eat alive.
M swings with venus. He's enthralling and plastic, and his sword is dull yellow chalk that breaks with every blow and never stops growing, gumming up the works of the universe. Katie, small and angry and always on fire, is so frustrated; this monster of the week is ready to ruin and her evil plot is to feast on flesh, metaphorically and also literally if she can get it, and Katie can't keep up at all. The beast's hate is so pure and perfect and right and just. Katie's hate is full of righteous anger and doubt and worry and pettiness. She can't decide to lean in her anger or cleanse herself of it; she's lukewarm, and the beast spits her out after a only chewing a little. If you can't cure, be poison. If you can't be fire, be a rock.
This is gross and annoying, says Katie.
M nods. The beast curses the earth beneath their feet. M rides them up on a wave of chalk. This sucks, says Katie. Can we just leave?
M thinks about it. Can we do that? I mean I guess we should fight her while she's there right?
Yeah I guess.
Sorry, I'm being responsible again.
That's right M, you should apologize for being responsible.
I'm really, really sorry.
I was joking, M.
Oh....I um. I was too...
...Now I feel bad.
I think you might need to prepare people if you are going to start telling jokes, M. Like, an inflection in your voice can help, and also
Katie, the beast is back.
Come on, don't interrupt. It's rude.