248 days.

Since June 2nd, 2017 the unholy, bloodlusting Montague Street Bridge has laid dormant in quiet slumber; its long reign of horrific, murderous terror seemingly at an end.

That is, until today.

The screeching banshee of road and rail infrastructure roared back to awful life earlier this morning, claiming a feeble rental van who dared venture near its narrow yet vile maw.

The truck had its roof all-but sheared clean off after it became helplessly trapped in the gnashing teeth of the beast a smidge before midday, becoming the bridge’s first blood and oil sacrifice for 2018, and its first solid meal in 8 months.

Call it vile benevolence, call it a warning, call it a mere warm up for the untold horrors to come, whatever the case, the bridge allowed what was left of the truck to escape its grasp, with the driver managing to limp the vehicle further up the road before coming to a stop just out of arm’s reach.

Despite safety measures in place – namely, a string of rubber paddles that alert drivers to the fact that they are about to drive head-long into ghoulish doom – the bastard bridge has chosen today, of all days, to rouse itself from its hibernation and begin its campaign of horrors anew.

What fuels its lust for trucken flesh? What loathsome soul burns black deep within the pit of its stomach? What ghastly, horny thrill does it get from gnarling the bones of the innocent; engorging its cross beam boner as the screams of the truck cry out but suddenly fall silent.

The worst part of it all?

It doesn’t even care.

We had eight good months of peacetime, but now that Monty is awake and hungry again, we are fucked.

Truly, truly fucked.

Source: The Ageg