A mysterious floating mass in a cup of coffee leads to all sorts of problems for our protagonist
There is something floating in my coffee. Something vile, disgusting and altogether disturbing. The question is; do I drink it or do I throw it down the drain? I'm so damn thirsty. God, I'm fucking dehydrated! I have to drink this ... yet I can't seem to bring the substance to my parched lips. Each time I raise the mug I can see this… gelatinous substance bob and quiver in the brown swirling whirlpool of caffeine. It reminds me of body bags that float and drift on the ocean before slowly sliding into the murky depths.
So what the hell is it? Mucus? Phlegm? Semen? I gag when I think about that slippery thing gliding down my gullet. I nearly spill the coffee.
Eventually, despite my trembling hand, the edge of the mug touches my lip. I tilt my wrist ever so slightly until I feel the liquid moistening the dried, peeling skin. I wait, my eyes straining downwards to see where the unidentified object is.
Panic! I can't see it anywhe..... shit! It's sliding in between my clenched lips! It's relentless! I squeeze my lips even tighter, slamming my teeth together… too late! I bite it in half! A split second of clarity pierces through my blind panic and I spit.
The thing flies across the room. I watch it in slow motion, relief seeping through me. The slimy object cuts a flight path, rising past the moth-infested light shade, narrowly avoiding the stalactites of fly paper dangling from my sagging, leaking ceiling, starting to arc downwards now, picking up speed as it hurtles towards certain death on my coffee table. It rams into a copy of Playboy magazine, splurting its obscene self onto a breast.
And there it lies, a morass of slime slowly spreading on the greasy pages.
My relief, however, soon dissipates as I feel the forgotten second half greasily inch down the centre of my tongue towards my throat. I gurgle and shove my fingers into my mouth but the thing is going down, I swear I can feel it and I shove my index finger down my throat, scrabbling for the horrible entity but it's too far gone and my eyes begin to water and I heave and choke and my mouth fills with phlegm and I double over as a dry heave wracks my body while the coffee mug slips out of my spasming hand and smashes on the brown tiled floor, splashing its contents over the moth balls and dusty footprints as I fall to my knees and wrench my hand from my mouth and splatter spittle over my chin whilst my nostrils bubble snot and I fall over and crack my head on the broken mug.
My long, dirty hair soaks up the coffee as I seep into unconsciousness.