The Worst Heist

My scales creak. I undulate over and around these bright jewels, these eggs. Each one part treasure, part ward, part of me. Some are mine. (MINE!!!!) Some belong to others, but I guard them just the same. My jaws clack and clench, grinding my anger into sparks that fly from my eyes.

They are coming. They always do. The thieves. Worthless streaks of snot. To a man, a waste of skin and air. Brutish, pointless, dull-witted. Their bald stupidity is a slap in the face to us.

They come and take what is not theirs. Every time, we roar. We rage. They get their pilfering paws slapped, and we snarl and grumble.

Each time we are held in check. We meekly pay our subscription, and pour balm on the bubbling wrath. It's OK. It was dealt with. Swiftly, too. They are gone now.

But we know they will be back. We know they will do it again. And again, and again. My fury shimmers under my skin, simmers in my throat. It threatens to liquify their eyes and their insides and melt the flesh from their bones. I will see them burn.

Try me you fucking plagiarising bastards. Try me!

Edit: 16th Aug 2024 - this piece attracts far too many spam comments, and Vocal don't remove them. So I'm turning them off. THANK YOU to everyone who left kind and thoughtful words. I appreciate your little black heart and your "insights". I do enjoy engaging with you all, so please do find me on social media!