found drama

You are overrun by them. An infestation of a grotesque mouse-octopus chimera. Little black oily vermin; naked tails and little furry rumps that coalesce into a mass of writhing black tentacles. Traps can’t hold them. And as they swarm, you try to stomp them out. Black ichor runs from their wounds. But, once cut in half, they regenerate. And each severed tentacle, like the hydra, regrows two-fold. And they’re getting bigger.

About Rob Friesel