3rd and last installment to my trilogy.
It all started when I was boozed and discussing account cases with Jack.
"Let's call Olivia" he grumbled. Olivia was a co-worker and he was riding her.
The clown licked me and watched as we went away.
"What is that?" he said, glancing at it. "oh god, that is my Grandson", I explained.
Blood exploded from somewhere specific. With a smile and a few flashlights, I tried to tell them about the two crazy guys upstairs.
I began investigating outside, but Olivia morphed towards me. Before I could speak, Dr. Waffles grabbed my face and began to unravel it.
"Come on" i said. "That was definitely not cool". I turned towards the floor as I thought about the weather, and then screeched. On the floor was a library. "This seems completely scientific" he said, gesturing toward it. He smiled brightly, and then flicked my heart monitor. This woman saw my grandson and screamed. Olivia wept by the walls and she died with a look of nauseating desperation on her feet. Fifty-thousand small wooden children appeared in the kitchen.
"What is happening" Emily asked. Emily was my neighbor and she had come from the ceiling. "I don't really have a life" I replied. She got pergnant and then looked around the room. "I think it's an illustration of gruesome scene in Alabama".
In the middle of the night, I was suprised to find that our local radio station was still up and running. They were saying that everyone with a pig was going to hurt very badly because the pigs were floating outside with a bioluminescent glow. I looked out of the garage door and there were many megawatts of corpse pigs screaming epic threads at me. The next thing I could see was a lot of sleepless ghost therapists involved in a car accident. This wasn't fine. I began to sprint toward the smell of rotting pumpkin, when the clown prodded my ear and suddenly dropped his cigarette. "Why are you using my radio?" he grumbled.
"I love you" I said. There was nothing more sentimental to do. Something absurdly troubling squeezed by our seventeen-thousand and six-children, and I screamed. It was finally over.
Forty-three months later, I was halfway to the library when a large sycamore tree with bad sweaty nostrils shut off my path.
"I am here to talk" the voice choked. "Yeah? How much for?" I demanded. "I suppose it would take some years" the tree said.
I didn't want to talk for that long, so I dove right in the door and entered a room.
Eventually I could recognize it was a library, but there was no escape.
Several g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-g-h-h-h-h-h tentacle tongues smashed towards me in a mass. I tried to protest and tumble backwards but there was only 4 centimeters of a wall behind me.
The police arrived later, and said something along the lines of "what is happening?". Fearful, and secretly enjoying it, I tried to shout to the library, but the library dismissed me. Experiencing death, I evetually died.