I don’t know why they call me mad. They act like this room isn’t filled with bizarre anthropomorphic animals that defy logic and everything that is supposed to be ‘reality.”
Like the frog in the blender. I told them not to turn it on, oh god….
Okay, okay, first off before you get confused, I have to tell you where it all began.
It was a quiet Sunday morning in my apartment. My roommates were dead asleep, and sunlight streamed through the blinds, rousing me from a fevered sleep.
There was a manatee on the ceiling. I had no freaking idea how it got there or why, but all the sudden, it was there, a huge, obese aquatic mammal just stuck to the ceiling, staring blankly at me, chewing on a piece of Lake Weed. Despite the impossibility of all this, even rubbing my eyes and pinching myself didn’t make it go away. And it was right over the bed, terrifyingly unstable. Had the cosmic horrors of the universe felt in the mood, I suppose it would have fallen off and crushed me.
That in itself almost drove me over the edge. I can handle finding frogs in blenders and sheep under the bed left over from the previous night’s counting session, but that was nearly too much.
And then—then, it started to talk. Yes, you’ve heard correctly. It spoke in a burbling, Lake Weed-muffled voice, explaining that there was also a sea cucumber lodged inside the light fixture. I mean really, WTF?
Sure enough, when I checked there it was. It was a cynical, emotionally disturbed little thing, and all I had to do was ask why it was there. It snapped, “Why don’t you leave me alone!? You don’t understand me or my taste in music!”
Then it fell out, rolled across the floor, and crawled under the dresser and hasn’t said anything since. Can you believe it? It’s sulking!
What did I do?
So after that, you might’ve expected me to lose my cool, descend into mania and start smashing things, right? Well, at least someone around here has some freaking self control. It was unfathomably hard. I was very nervous, but not mad. Understand? I was perfectly sane and aware when these uncanny things began to unfold.
But it didn’t stop there. Oh no. Soon, I became aware of harried scratching noises coming from inside the air vents, occasionally punctuated by weird little chitters and cackles.
Gremlins. There were gremlins inside the vents. And soon they started playing annoyingly loud folk music and running around in togas like insane fraternity kids.
It is very hard to smash things that live inside your wall, I tell you, especially since they only came out late at night to raid the fridge. The smaller they are, the harder you bawl.
I kept myself occupied by paging through my copy of the Necrodumbicon, looking up incantations and recipes. During this spell of the fantastic I kept myself sane by learning how to cook Shuggoth Surprise. My roommates hated it. They said it tasted and looked like stir-fried human brain and threatened to call the cops. But they pitied me and my “imaginary” friends, and somehow tolerated this eccentric behavior on the pretense of friendship and temporary insanity. Fools…
So the manatee, meanwhile, was just hanging there sleeping almost all the time, its loud, rhythmic snoring keeping me awake at night on top of the folk music and the maniacal laughter.
And the sea cucumber still wasn’t saying anything. Thanks for the help, you inexplicable mollusk. You couldn’t be more awkward if you smeared black makeup all over your “face” and screamed in tune to wretched guitar riffs and unimaginative drum-banging.
Everyone thought I had gone completely bonkers. No one believed the horrible truth, even—even when I pointed out the lemming inside the wall clock. A LEMMING! IN THE WALL CLOCK! COME ON!
It wouldn’t stop talking, constantly telling down to the very minute what time it was. “Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick its four in the morning, kiddies, time to wake up! Tick tock tick tock ti—“
Okay, I’m kinda losing it here. Bear with me…bear with me…*takes deep breath*
So, they were too stupid or blind to see the frog in the blender, my roommates were, and they turned it on. I kid you not; someone put bananas in it and drank the frog-innards smoothie!
Why are you looking at me like that? You act like I’m some kind of Looney Tunes freakazoid! I wouldn’t make up all this stuff just for the publicity, you know. I am better than that. But the reporters were relentless, crowding outside the window with frenzied urgency, cameras flashing, excitedly talking about me. And they still are, only this time I can’t even close the drapes.
Maybe the sheep didn’t cause any trouble, but it was a freeloader. It didn’t even try to reason with these other creatures that had suddenly taken up residence in the room.
No, it just slept all the time, and said nothing. Like that angsty sea cucumber.
The one thing that finally made me crack…was the octopus. Three or four days had passed since the manatee first appeared on the ceiling, and in resignation I walked into the bathroom to run a shower and perhaps calm down from these traumatic incidents when I halted, a choked cry catching in my throat.
There was an octopus. In the bathtub.
It talked with a French accent. It had filled the tub during my absence and stolen my rubber duckie. It waved at me with one of its tentacles, and roiling nausea twisted in my stomach as it said, “Haw haw, it was I who placed deh Frog in your blendah! Le une femme! I haff used your loofah! Hope you don’t mind!”
I blacked out.
So as I lie, strapped securely to this bed in Arkham Asylum, my attorney sits down on the job and snorts crushed-up Wonka Sweet Tarts to get a sugar rush instead of trying to help me get free. Every night, I get a lobotomy from a horrifying German surgeon dubbed Doctor Happy, and a fruit cup.
All the creatures I had seen were written off as hallucinations.
And you know what the worst thing of all is?
They all followed me here. And they brought friends.
*descends into incomprehensible gibbering*