I ruined my first pillow. My left eye-fang punctured a microchip on its case.

A guy from the supply department laughed at me, but he still gave out a new pillow afterwards. The first case always comes with an implied warranty. Nobody can restrain themselves the first time… except the guy whose nickname is ‘Cloistress’. But I doubt he is ever fully conscious as I always see him junked-up. Either way, it’s true – he has never ruined a pillow. The complete moron!

I unwrapped its thin yellow paper, seeing it was covered with unintelligible squiggles… Jeez! I was a bit bewildered… The configuration of my new pillow was strange to say the least. I would even say its configuration was suspicious. It conjured up associations with Cthulhu. But on the other hand, it wasn’t half-bad… there would be minimal risk of my biting Cthulhu. My previous pillowcase had a picture of a woman’s breast, and that ended quite sadly for both of us.

I slept horribly, though.

…Cthulhu told me that I am an apostate, and a coward. He was demanding the reopening of an investigation against Paul the Octopus. I protested and though my protests were pathetic, I too thought Paul was a hypocrite and a charlatan…

By morning I had firmly committed myself to exchanging this hellish pillow. I didn’t know then that we don’t choose our pillow… it’s vice versa. (to be continued)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
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