Bathroom Monologue: Phoenix Baby, OR, Interpretations Are Not What They Seem

The phoenix appeared when Marina was born. They couldn’t have thought to time it, but it seemed the first attack came when she was spanked and cried her first breaths. Every ensuing time she cried the phoenix attacked anew, knocking over skyscrapers and ripping up the roads. The attacks grew more savage with time, ripping up more and more of the earth, and became especially worse when Marina grew old enough to throw tantrums. Her uncle began keeping a diary, a crude catalog of her misbehavior and the bird’s assaults. When she didn’t get what she wanted for her birthday and the phoenix ripped up the highway, he convinced himself there was only one way to stop it. He smothered her at 8:01 on a Monday morning. At 8:01 across town, the great dragon emerged in full rage from beneath the concrete and immolated a third of the city’s population. The phoenix’s head fell in shame; she had been too late to stop it.