Dr. NoSleep

By now the tentacle had already lifted his entangled leg up and into the toilet bowl, pulling the foot into the bowl.

Already his toes dipped into the cold water and against the hole, and he shrieked when it expanded, like a warm, fleshy tube, crushing his toes inward and swallowing his foot.

The tank rattled hungrily as his foot and lower leg disappeared into the bowl, accompanied by bones snapping, dull and painless, as the creature chewed at his leg.

But, ah, ah, they had forgotten that he knew this was coming.

He had known that they were poised to attack at any moment, and his flight from home, the burning of his home, the disguise as the sleepless knights traveling to gain as much ground as he could, was not a sign of surrender, but of preparation.

Grabbing the bathtub curtain, he gave the opaque plastic sheet a firm yank and, to his delight, the force pulled the curtain rod free from its supports.

It landed with a loud bang against the tub, the other end slamming against the sink mirror and shattering it.

He grabbed the metal rod with his free hand and managed to steady himself before raising the rod to his side and jabbing it into the tentacle in one forceful rapid thrust.

contact.

The tentacle jerked backward violently as the metal sank into its wriggling thin skin.

The pinkish flesh burst open like an overripe fruit, releasing a cascade of teeming greenish fluid.

He jabbed it again, aiming directly at the thickest part, and this time it squeezed his leg tighter.

A desperate, agonized attempt, but not enough to quell his rage.

More blood gushed from the tentacle, now mixing with the foaming, white pus that reeked of ammonia.

The tentacle jerked backward and slammed him against the wall, the tiles cracking under the force.

Sucking air through his teeth, he raised the curtain rod again, his javelin, and with a final mighty thrust, plunged it into his foe.

The thing thrashed wildly, spewing more of its foul blood across the overflowing bowl and the sink, before wilting over dead, flabby and quivering in its death throes.

Its grip on his leg weakened, revealing the rings of scarred, red flesh around his ankle and calf that itched fresh blood.

His leg came easily from the toilet bowl, and he was surprised to see that it didn't look like a crushed, malformed mess of bone jutting through flesh.

The burning still persisted, though that would be another concern later.