* Just Some Bippity-Boppity-Bullsh*t

*

"GYA-AAAH!" I awoke screaming, my voice echoing out through the room where I rested. Grabbing at my chest, I could feel my racing heart as it pounded against bruised ribs.

The pain of being crushed to death by a truck suddenly deciding to come through my wall was fresh in my mind and body. And, as I reached for my leg, the last thing I had felt tearing apart, it became apparent that the experience had only been a dream. That was, until something else filled my mind.

Glancing down at my body, I was no longer three hundred pounds of depressed manflesh. Long gone was the pain of being thirty-five, back aching like it was sixty, with the strange tickle in the back of my throat from years of smoking the flowers that helped me forget.

"What the fu—"

There was a clatter of something to the ground nearby, drawing my attention from the moment of existential panic.

I realized, looking away from inside my own mind, that I was in a laboratory decorated as though it was pulled directly from a children's book written by schizophrenic horders. There were bright colours, mostly goops and oozes, that spilled from shattered flasks and bottles tucked haphazardly into askew bookshelves. They created puddles on the ground, which bubbled angrily, launching wads of muck against the walls and cabinets where they steamed and hissed as they corroded the surfaces. Hanging from the ceiling were various tools and objects that had no right to be in a laboratory, like toothbrushes and—

"Is that a dildo?" I asked aloud.

As though activated by my question, the floppy two-hander came alive and began to flail wildly. Like a fish hanging from a line, it tried to escape with every fling of its unnecessarily girthy and flaccid form, doing its damnedest to break in my direction.

Pushing myself to my feet, I began to move backwards, but I soon found myself stumbling back to the ground. I had stepped into a bucket of some liquid. It was thick and warm, and as it pooled around my foot, it too came alive. With disgusting squelches, it moved up my leg one sticky tentacle at a time, crawling towards my waist.

"Ahhh!" I screamed once more, reaching down to try and pry the goop from my body.

But with every touch against my flesh, it became increasingly excited, extending more tendrils that latched to me as it continued its journey across me. Eagerly freeing a hand, I reached for the nearest object to me. It was a strange, double-sided screwdriver with a handle as sticky as the creature trying to become one with what I could only believe was any available crevice.

"Die!" With a weak cry, I yelled out and began to stab the creature, trying to be careful not to puncture my own frail body in the process.

With each strike, the ooze squeaked pleasantly and sprayed white goop across the lab. It took nearly ten jabs of the tool before its body finally fell limply to the floor, becoming a disturbing-looking puddle that resembled something you'd find at the bottom of a thoroughly loved toy.

Disturbed, exhausted, confused, and horrified, I stepped away from the love puddle and looked around the room. Eyeing the desk of thick parchments and loosely wrapped scrolls, I began to move over to it with the hopes of finding out some clues as to what was happening. But that was when I heard it—the wet sound of something breaking free of its tether and slapping to the ground.

I didn't have to turn around. I knew what it was. So, gripping the sticky screwdriver in my hand, I prepared myself to attack another living toy from pleasure-cave hell.

Something brushed my leg, so I spun around and prepared to strike down, only to be caught off guard by the size of the assaulting foe. It wasn't the dildonic demon, but instead a broom trying to clean up the gooey floor. But, even though it didn't seem interested in me, I could still see the threat approaching. It moved towards me like a giant earthworm, excitedly wriggling its way forward. Even though it hadn't been the one to touch me, I was still going to need to stab the thing to death. So, with a shove, I pushed the broom from my path and began to run towards the toy with a scream.

That was when my feet slipped on my previous assailant. Tumbling to the ground, I cough, splashing red across the floor. This time, I had impaled myself on my screwdriver, with the sharp rod forcing its way through my chest. Thick blood poured from the wound and my mouth as I cried out, rolling to my side. The beastly boner continued its crawl my way, even more excited now that I had arrived at its level. And, to add insult to fatal injury, the boom had now determined that I was a mess that needed to be cleaned.

Beginning its assault on me from behind, the painful bristles of the brush's head scratched at my arms and legs as I tried to protect myself. Ripping the screwdriver free, a splurt of blood sprayed out, painting the walls and triggering a new foe. Mops and buckets began to emerge, with hand towels and spray bottles close behind. Before long, I was being assaulted from all angles.

"What kind of bippity-boppity-bullshit is this?!" I cried out, protecting myself in the fetal position as my vision began to fade.

Am I going to die? I asked myself, looking out of the corner of my eye at the final phallic fiend. Fugged to death by the magical maids?

Liquid splashed over my face as the rag snuck between my hands and began to cover my head. Soon, I was being magically waterboarded as the broom scraped away at my skin before, finally, something limp and heavy began to slap at my forehead.

And, as hope of survival quickly faded and I could feel the world closing in around me, I began to wonder what the meaning of my life had been. Lonely and depressed for a large portion of it, only to find happiness and have it stripped away. And then to die, alone, being assaulted by living cleaning supplies and sex toys.

At least my life isn't flashing before my eyes. I thought as darkness began to take me. That would suck.

"What's going on in—oh shit!" A tired voice called out through the darkness in my final moments of consciousness. "Away with you, Rodney! How did you get off your fug-cord?! And you, back to your closet! You know I like my private areas filthy."

Who is that? I wondered. I hope they just let me die—

And then, the world fell quiet, and I began to fall through an endless abyss as the darkness finally consumed me.