"Puccini Bad," he said. "Me see La Boheme. Me think Rent better."
"Me no Frankenstein. Me creation of him. Me Modern Prometheus," said the cultured monster, getting irritated.
"Still, why you no lika my opera? Itsa considered one of my best works, " Giacomo insisted. "Whatsamatta, Frankenstein? Your bolta comin' loose?"
"arrrrrgggg! Stop calling me Frankenstein. Me no Frankenstein. Frankenstein asshole. Me very angry. Me think Verdi greatest Italian Opera composer. Me think Puccini a hack, " the creation shouted. "La Traviata kicks Madama Butterfly's ass!"
With that the angry monster began choking the surprised Italian.
"eegggkkkggaaggg...Frankie...your hurting me. I (gggaaakkk) can't (aaaacckckk) brea..." with those words, Giacomo Puccini slumped to the floor.
The Frankenstein monster, thinking he killed Puccini and would be even more of an outcast, fled to the Paris where he climbed to the top of the Eiffel Tower and tried to grab at passing airplanes, albeit unsuccessfully.
Sorry I missed Stitch N Bitch tonight. I had to make brownies for a friend at work.