literature

Acid Tripper Monologue

Deviation Actions

By
Published:
599 Views

Literature Text

     It wasn’t murder. Not really Really Murder. It was just that, what with the pixies squatting the tango and the trees trembeling so loud, the addition of your falsetto screeching was just a little too much for your typical Wednesday night.

       I hope you don’t hold a grudge, I really do; you and I were pretty tight ever since the howler monkeys trashed the bathroom and we saw them off with pan and paintbrush. It wasn’t like I planned your dying, nor that I had an insatiable need to shove your head between my breasts. It just turned out that way.
       I never meant to spoil the night, neither do I hold you solely responsible. If you remember, it was in fact the goldfish’s idea that we do the electric boogaloo. That cunning little snack-a-cracker finned fiend played us like puppets.
        One step left, one jump right and we Timewarped our way to the utility room. I must say, I don’t recall you tye-dying the walls, nor signing for those four-and-twenty blackbird pie chandeliers, but do not think that this surprise warranted your execution, in fact I was more than on board with this interior change. Even the rhino hide flooring was to my taste, and I am curious as to where you found this animal with a chequered print.
        It was only for a split second, a nano-second, in fact it may not have been any form of second at all but a smaller sister measure of time we discovered that evening unknowingly, and let slip from us like well oiled sumo wrestlers. This was the time it took me to impregnate the washing machine with my facial organs and smell for gas. How you ended up stuck in the sink is a question for higher powers than myself.
        I did the best to catch the spiders falling from your mouth as you laughed and twisted in the steel table-tub. You misunderstood, as my paper hands scuttled around your crotch and neck, you deluded yourself that I was doing the dirty.
       It was the spiders. The spiders doing arachnobatics from your long, long tongue.
       You twisted spirals until the tap was no longer snaking your sphincter. I’d pocketed your insects and was standing over you, grinning green, watching your limbs dance as your ass stayed sucked into the basin.
       My grin grew more and more teeth until your eyes did somersaults and suddenly the humor was somewhere else, but absent between the two of us. You cottoned on to your adrenaline, before I removed the wool from my eyes. The room grew smaller and began to smell like fish until both of us were curling our noses and retching white noise.    
       That was when you started to squeal. My face was contorting you said. My eyes were rabbits you screamed. My tongue a serpent you shrieked. My nose a great cavernous hole you cried. It was hungry you yowled. My nose was going to eat you, you hissed.
       And that was when the fun got stolen. You were turning from white to gray, and you didn’t belong on our technicolor stage. I goose-walked over to you as you thrusted around your watery throne.
       One finger. Two fingers. A fist. You swallowed them all; your pin-needle teeth piercing the flesh of my hand. Your saliva adding to my 80% water content until I was no longer human. I retrieved my appendage from your moist face-hole and barked my fury at your closet cannibalism. Your noise was relentless. I batted at you with a feather duster, aiming to lodge it in your gullet. You deep-throated any of the cleaning utensils I thrust into you; your thrashings seizure-powerful.
      I started to get scared. Your legs were hurtling closer and closer to my skin, with their flippered ends wet and webbed and waiting. It’s nothing personal, it’s just that I did not wish to be engulfed into your symphony of terror, and even the front row was too close for enjoyment; your spittle raining down on me like wedding confetti.
       The noise. The sound that wouldn’t become silence.
       I waded closer and closer to your trembling carcass and engulfed you within my liquid embrace. Your being shook mine and we earthquaked for what seemed like eternity or at least as long as it takes Dumbledore to form a sentence and spit it past dry crippled lips.
       It seemed like an age before your shrieking at my demons that only you could see subsided to a muffled hacking against my chest. However we learnt in geometry that the average human can go only for one or two minutes before needing to breathe so I must ask forgiveness for exaggeration. I held you close, your mouth frenching my heart through ribs, muscle and nipple. I kept your head crushed into my breasts a long while after you’d stopped your rodent-twitching and mewling. Your head sank heavily lower as I stroked your tresses until you were having a silent conversation with my crotch.
        It was then that the energy in the room slowed right down and I was bumped off the ride. I pushed your head away from my sex until you were doing an ugly backbend, your wedged ass keeping your bottom half fixed in position. Crawling up onto the worktop next to you I peered into your glazed over eyes and jabbed your left pupil with my index finger. Your tongue lizard-fell out your mouth like a slug being born. I touched it experimentally with my own and you did nothing. I put my ear near your mouth and listened for breath and you carried on doing nothing.
       Your lips were blue until I applied the lipstick. Number 14. cherry blossom. In the end I doused you in fairy liquid and you glided right out the sink. Your Homebase manufactured prison. You fell onto me like you loved me and sank to the floor with a groan that was probably mine. Despite all this it was only once I’d performed the final test- when I’d shoved the pickle in between your painted lips to receive a response absent of gagging, screaming or anything at all that I knew.    
     You were dead.

      That was how they found you. All of you graying as gravity worked its voodoo, and hocus pokus- the blood settled to the bottom of your deadweight cadaver and left you a mask of the night before. A mask with cherry blossom lips stretched round a small pimply, pickled green phallus.

      I didn’t plan to kill you. It just turned out that way. I’m sure I shall feel guilty about this for as long as I live, or at least until the perfect blue ring bruised into the centre of my chest fades from blue teeth to a yellow flower and the asbestos in the ceiling turns my mind to chalk.
experimental piece... if your thinking WAAAHHH? read the title and maybe youl be enlightened
© 2008 - 2024 mousethistle
Comments12
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
MatsyTheDoctor's avatar
That was such a beautiful piece. XD

Man I love your work soooooo much! :D
Yeah I totally understood, well most of it. Some stuff I was a bit ify over, but over all, I kinda got it. lol

I LOVED IT! Must I say more then that? lol :D