The one saving grace for the innocent people of Melbourne with regards to its ever-present and deeply fearsome resident monster known as the Montague St Bridge was that it was never subtle about its movements. When it woke, it roared loudly, callously showing off its freshest kill for all to see as a warning to all who should venture near it. Yesterday, however, Monty debuted a new and wholly terrifying evolution in its bloodthirsty personality. Yesterday, for the first time ever, the bridge exhibited something it has never shown off before, and it’s something that should chill everyone in the city to the bone. Yesterday, for the first time, the Montague St Bridge used stealth.
[jwplayer JPSzPR3Z]
Only this morning, well over 12 hours past the incident, did we become aware of Monty’s latest feeding.
The loathsome bitch of a bridge took a victim at approximately 3:30pm yesterday afternoon. But it did so with such deft touch and quiet precision that it barely raised a ripple with the townsfolk.
The unsuspecting truck was lured into Monty’s deadlights and consumed whole, leaving the remains strewn across the street in a fashion we’ve become accustomed to.
*Shhhh If we don’t put signage on our trucks, it won’t look as bad*
GOTCHA!!! #NoFilter
JERK NO. 120!!!
📸@D98143288 pic.twitter.com/AxUvsMVcN2
— Montague Street Bridge OG (No blue tick) (@MontagueStBridg) November 6, 2019
Unfortunately, the @MontagueStBridg has been hit again 🤦 The right lane’s closed beach-bound on the approach. Please follow the direction of @VictoriaPolice and drive with care. Just a reminder, this is a 3.0 metre clearance. #victraffic #knowyourclearance pic.twitter.com/VTnvLvePYh
— VicTraffic (@VicTraffic) November 6, 2019
@3AW693 Montague St Bridge strikes again!! pic.twitter.com/rzyd1wi1o4
— charlie is my angel (@charlieismyange) November 6, 2019
This time, however: No roar. No hoot nor holler to the heavens. No shrill, banshee-like howl to the heavens.
Monty remains silent, calculated, almost content.
That it took nigh on 18 hours for the feeding to come to our attention is outrageous, and spells nothing but trouble.
Has the bridge stopped feeding for need? Does it want to gnaw on the metallic flesh of errant trucks? Has it began luring them in?
Is the bridge, previously a beast of necessity, suddenly thriving on the thrill of the kill?
Whatever the case, it’s a horrifying new dawn for us all. The bridge is evolving, shifting, growing.
It’s fucking learning, friends. God help us all.
