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I open my eyes to a cramped washroom with moist walls wobbling like plaster flavored jello. My ass feels glued to the stained porcelain throne at the center of it all, and the unbearable stinging sensation accompanying any attempt to sit up prompts me to throw in the towel and accept the fact that, for the time being, I am to stay put. I breath in a stench that can only be described as a putrid mix of stale urine devolving into ammonia and fresh wood chips; I think I like wood chips, and for a moment or two I think deeply about how sad it is that such a wonderful thing has been perverted by the smell of piss. I don't have a chance to think long, because a man suddenly appears, naked, holding his genitals.

'Are you a dream?' I ask him as he glances about and surveys the shit-stained shoe box we find ourselves in.

'What?' he replies, his wide eyes still spinning. 'Am I a what?'

'A dream. What I mean is, are you part of my dream?'

'I think you are mistaken, sir; you are part of my dream,' he scoffs, obviously offended by my inquiry. Apalled by his claim, I feel obligated to pursue the matter further.

'I hate to point out the obvious, but you just materialized completely out of thin air, in nothing but your birthday suit, and here you stand holding your bits and pieces with the look of a deer caught in headlights. No, I think you are the dream.'

He makes a rather throaty noise and, with a hack, deposits a wad of phlegm in the sink. 'If this is your dream, might you explain where we are, then?'

'We are, uh, in my washroom,' I say hesitantly - a poor attempt at asserting a falsified claim. Frankly the whole place seems quite alien to me.

'Bullshit, you lying bastard. This is my bathroom. And furthermore, you yourself are naked, so my clothing, or lack thereof, proves nothing. I'd also like to point out, if I may, that I am free to walk about, yet you seem stuck to that wretched contraption.'

Though the scraggly exhibitionist has a point, I dismiss his rhetoric and refuse to cave.

' I can too stand up, I just prefer not to. After all, you've accosted me while on the john. My business is pressing, and if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it greatly if you could fuck off and let me get to it. Go! Disappear!'

I begin making wild hand gestures, waving like a feral monkey and imploring him to leave me be. He shakes his head at me in disgust as he grips the door handle.

'Fine, fine, finish whatever it is you plan on doing. I'm a bit hungry, and seeing how this is my dream, and we are in my house, I think I'll grab a bite to eat.'

The second he opens the door, a giant purple frog, twice the size of both of us combined, squeezes through the doorway and inundates the washroom with its warty flesh.

'Sweet fuck!' my naked companion cries. 'What in God's name is this thing?'

Before he can comment further, the frog laps him up with its tongue and pulls him feet first into its mouth.

'Ah, shit! I can't wake up! I can't wake up!' he moans as he desperately pinches himself. 'Do something, you sick bastard!'

'I told you it was my dream. You should have been kinder to me and let me excrete in peace!'

I watch with a sort of perverse satisfaction as the giant frog devours him, until finally the man's fingertips disappear into its gaping cavity. It burps cheerfully, and I raise one arm victoriously.

'Yes! A giant purple frog, how creative! What a marvel the imagination is! Well, Mr.Frog, if you don't mind, I have work to do. It was nice of you to drop by and, ahem, rid me of that annoying creature, but rest assured that your presence is no longer needed. Go, shoo. Off you go.'

But the frog does not move, electing instead to smack its lips with its prickly pink tongue. I catch a hint of depravity in the thing's eye, and my first reaction is to stand up and scuttle away. I give my cheeks a tug, but they don't so much as budge an inch. I begin frantically pinching myself, stamping on my feet, biting my tongue, all in an attempt to wake up, but nothing seems to have any effect. Soon the slippery creature is upon me, and I am sucked at once into its mouth and I fight hard not to drown in its saliva.

I find the naked man dissolving in the frog's stomach, his upper body still visible from its intestinal tract. He still very much alive.

'Ah, God, help me,' he says as he reaches for my foot. I kick his hand away and he sinks deeper into the acidic goo. One of my toes catches a droplet splashing up and begins to bubble over. In no time the naked man is completely dissolved; with a croak the frog's throat muscles contract, and I am forced into the stomach. My feet are the first to touch, followed by my lower extremities. I try to claw back up its throat, but its long tongue bats my hands away. My whole body is engulfed by a sensation like no other, and I scream.

Having no energy left to shout, I mutter a silent prayer for strength and wonder when the fuck the damned thing is going to wake up.

"Imperious, choleric, irascible, extreme in everything, with a dissolute imagination the like of which has never been seen... there you have me in a nutshell, and kill me again or take me as I am, for I shall not change."

From his Last Will & Testament, Marquis de Sade

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The following comments are for "Randomness"
by strangedaze

That would scare the fuck out of me! Is the rude man another of your incarnations such as in the finger-lopping episode? Is it a continuation of the theme? It's fucking freaky is what it is.

I used to write this kind of thing, but found it addictive and very difficult to stop. Oddly, it was all-consuming. It could have been a purple frog.

( Posted by: GibsonGirl [Member] On: October 22, 2004 )

...I'm not sure what it is, to be honest with you. I suppose everything you write is somehow an incarnation of you, but that's subject to interpretation. I was on the john reading Gogol, and this story just came to me. Washrooms always lend an air of helplessness, I find, so I just let it fly.

As for it being addictive, I'm inclined to agree, but I find whenever I try to write very sober, über realistic pieces wrought with ooey-gooey emotions, they end up in the trash heap. As usual, thanks for reading, and I'b interested in seeing what sort of fiction your mind concocts.


( Posted by: strangedaze [Member] On: October 22, 2004 )

This is a very orginal bit of writing, you have an excellent imagination!
Just when I didn't think it could get any crazier, I almost fell out of my chair reading about that man eating frog. Definetly kept me guessing!
Thanks for your comment, and yes, those of us who like to use Z in place of S RULE!

( Posted by: Wednesdaze [Member] On: October 22, 2004 )

I think you succeeded here in making the readers feel the disgust. I for one hated the feel of dirty toilet bowls, you described the acts here in a manner that made me freak out more.

So this was neither the first's nor the second man's dream but the frog's? It could be an expression too if someone invaded one's privacy in a bathroom by just barging in naked as if the other doesn't exist.

I enjoyed reading this very very much.

( Posted by: peterpaulino [Member] On: October 23, 2004 )

Dream within a dream
Didn't Poe say something about this? The bathroom is such a private place and naked makes us even more vunerable. You've really grated on some nightmare chords here. Nice job. -Philo

( Posted by: Philo [Member] On: October 24, 2004 )

It challenges imagination, but does not offend; it explores enough but does not get lost; and it has explored enough that it can be fertilized with more dialog, inner voices, surrealism.

Let's see more experiments!


( Posted by: Teflon [Member] On: October 27, 2004 )

Pen, Pete, Tef, Wed & Philo
Thank you all very much for your comments.

Wednesdaze - my imagination is my driving force. Thanks for the kind words!

Peter - I'm flattered that you have taken the time to read so many of my posts lately. I won't comment on the happenings in the story, because I personally hate it when writers impose their own wonky meanings on texts ;) Cheers, and I'm waiting for some more PP poetry.

Philo - Sadly my familiarity with the works of Poe leaves much to be desired, but since he has come strongly recommended by so many, I feel obligated to check more of his work out.

Pen - Hey! Nice to see I've lured you away from poetry ;) Your voice is always appreciated, and I respect your opinions. Thanks again!

Mr. Teflon - Snazzy. Often I worry that by stepping across boundaries I place my fiction on shaky ground. Thank you for giving me confidence in my writing, and rest assured that there will be many more odd excretions to come.

All of your comments are extremely appreciated!


( Posted by: strangedaze [Member] On: October 28, 2004 )

dug this up
and dig it. weird, indeed.

well thought out and executed.

one quibble: when the damned thing is going to wake up? what thing? the frog? are you in the frog's dream? until this last sentence, i thought the naked man was dreaming. or the narrator. actually, i wasn't sure. ha.

( Posted by: ark [Member] On: November 23, 2004 )

The last line couldn't have been more perfect. I really liked the whole idea of trying to figure exactly whose dream this is.

( Posted by: Eleanor [Member] On: February 12, 2005 )

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