Ritchie Black never did shut up. He predicted everything; lightning and rain, traffic jams and accidents, floods and fires. The problem was, he was never right... until he was, and even then he was wrong. When the dark patch of water bubbled and broiled, it wasn't Godzilla that raised its head. Just a colossal grey submarine with shining turrets pointed right at the harbour master's office.
"I told you there was something there," He said and folded his arms.
"It's not Godzilla, though, is it?" Came the reply. Only teenage boys could argue while hellfire fell and smoke rose.