Monster: In Montana.
“B__ch, I’m a monster no-good blood sucker
F_t motherf____r, now look who’s in trouble” — Monster By Ye verse by Rick Ross.
The glee in their eyes illuminated the dingy hallways of power. Their sardonic smiles commanded the cavernous people’s house for the citizens of Montana. Their smugness was palpable as it leaped from the above photo and assaulted me. I was spent from dodging and parrying the attacks radiating from their false sense of self-importance, seeking to escape the confines of this photo.
They look like a two-year-old golden retriever, proudly depositing some poor vermin, caught in its clutches, on your plate in the middle of breakfast. These women were basking in their own self-anointed importance. In their feeble minds, which had been compromised by hate, they were the only ones who had answered the call to be obstinate, odious obstructionists to Montana’s first trans-elected official.
Hypnotized by their hubris, I felt the sudden and intense onset of déjà vu. I knew that I had seen them before. My skin convulsed like it was covered by lesions of fire ant bites. My brain pulsated as I attempted to place their scorn-riddled faces. I tried to de-age them to see if I had known them in my youth from my visits to Montana. I was in agony trying to place where and how…
