The hundred-foot tall women struck their aloof poses, blotting out the sun. They were dressed in frilly lingerie and their shadows fell over the city.
The brunette stood with her arms crossed. The blonde caressed her hair. The redhead stuck her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. They all looked immensely bored.
No one knew where they had came from, or why they had appeared. The people of the city were baffled, but one by one, they grew to love the gigantic women.
But soon the government intervened. They did not like the people to be so pleased, so appreciative, so in awe of something.
The army and navy bombarded the giant women for two weeks, but they remained impassive, mocking the attacks with their emotionless stances. Soon, the government stopped the bombings.
Now we sit all day in their shade, gazing up at them, singing songs in honor of their great beauty, and their even greater indifference.