circa 2000, unfinished. bored afternoon at a coffee-shop, perhaps there was too much coffee involved.
—
It was a dark (rather obviously), and rather pleasant night actually - cool, misty and poignant, perhaps in the same way that having someone dangle a concert grand overhead might be. It definitely gave Gronk pause. A decidedly long pause, as was to be expected, as Gronk normally took more time to register his on sentience than some species spent occupied with theirs.
Having managed to achieve consciousness, he pondered briefly indulging in an intravenous lava drip, but summarily realised that this was both too much effort, nor did he have veins. This chain of thought had however, led to the realisation that he was possessed of a corporeal self, at which point he rolled over onto his back to stretch, and crushed a small city. Still mid-yawn, he looked around guiltily and wondered how long he had slumbered, since evidently the monkey-men had somehow forgotten him. One or two had even managed to build up some sort of growth on his thighs. They brushed off easily enough.
Gronk turned, and walked away from the fracas spilling forth from the city. He couldn’t quite tell whether it was adulatory or military noise, though neither was a particularly interesting endeavour. Stomping northward and trying to avoid the ape-kin, Gronk looked to the stars. And stopped.
He had slept for far, far too long. He scanned the horizon, swiveling on his heels, his mouth agape. Not one constellation wanted recognition, the moon seemed to be shying away, recoiling in the same horror that now overwhelmed him.
[…]
—
Argus, who according to my Brewer’s Phrase and Fable was said to live at the tip of Africa. I correlated this with local legend of Table Mountain as a sleeping giant.