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:As you slit them open, the Gothic Fairy Sousaphone players look up to you with something akin to gratitude, gurgling as their life spills out with the burbling purple ichor. You look down at the dark blood smeared on your arms and apron, and, satisfying a bit of curiosity, sniff. It is a quite pleasant aroma of lilac and some sort of citrus liqueur: :You look upon the still forms of the fairies, given a peace long denied them: :one of the bodies spasms: :and another: :and another: :Soon, all the corpses are convulsing, spraying their fluids from every hole. The bodies begin to slither together and their flesh melds, every pair of fairies becoming a hideous amalgam in order to seal the wounds you delivered upon them. A face emerges from a neck here, and arm from a belly there. Extra legs flail and extra hands curl in mute agony: :The fairy that looked to you with gratitude now bears a wide eyed look of horror and betrayal: :You look on, feeling a combination or revulsion and professional curiosity, when the lilac smell fills your nostrils with increased potency. You look down to see the ichor dissolving your clothes. You hasten to tear them away, but the blood on your hands and arms penetrates your flesh. You feel yourself...Changing: :a sousaphone grows out of your body and into your hands:
:they stare: :they collectively, and in unison, soil themselves: :they begin to weep, silently:
Ru tu tu-te-tu-te-tu! ...
... PHOOMPH...
... :PHOOMPH...:
... PHOOMPH...
... ... [Foomph...]
... (Foomph...)
... (Foomph...)
Did somebody ask for a Light Toot? ... :PHOOMPH:
... ... :PHOOMPH:
... :PHOOMPH:
... Phoomph... :weeps purple ichor:
Phoomph... |