No. That’s not it at all.
I was never changed into an octopus. That’s just crazy. I must have had a dream, or else I drank too much. Or somebody put something into my drink. Yes, that’s it. Somebody put something into my drink.
But, I can’t remember drinking anything. I can’t remember anything at all, except being an octopus. What’s going on? Am I dreaming? I’ve had dreams in the past where I knew I was dreaming and I couldn’t wake up and I lay there in bed, trying to wake up. I used to try to roll my body back and forth, back and forth, getting some sort of rhythm going until I would wake up. That’s what I need to do. That’s what I’m going to do. That’s what I’m doing.
I looked down at my arms, flat out on my sides, with their dead-skin fleshy whiteness contrasting with the suction cups, flat on my bed sheet, and I started to roll back and forth. It was easy. My body was fluid and flexible. I rolled back and forth a dozen times now, on the sheet, and realized that I was fully awake.
Something odd has happened. I couldn’t think what it was. I don’t know how. I don’t know why.
I cried out and an ungodly whistling, shrieking bird call fled from my beak. I tried to form words, but only the horrible high-pitched squeal came out. The bedroom door slid open. My wife, a magnificent giant, slid into the room. She was a combination of squid and dragon. Her mid-body, like my own, was a near perfect cylinder. Her tentacles jumped with electricity. She thought to me, “Are you okay, honey? Were you having a nightmare? I heard you scream.”
“I’m, I’m fine, sweetheart,” I thought.
I didn’t dare speak because of the horror that my sea bird squealing voice had become.
With my great, flexible tentacles, I pulled myself to the side of my bed. I nearly fell when I tried to sit up. My body was something like a cucumber that had been sliced in half. My lone eye scanned the bedroom. It looked perfectly normal. I looked down at my body and realized I didn’t remember what I looked like. I had hundreds of writhing tendrils for feet that swarmed like maggots. I had just four arms, now, but they were sufficient to prop me up and to drop me down on the floor.
My head was aching as if I had been hit with a sledge hammer.
“You’ve got to get ready to work,” my monster-wife thought.
I trundled off to the shower.
My countless maggot-feet swirled beneath me, propelling me reeling into the bathroom. I closed the door behind me and glanced at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. That stopped me cold. My bald head, if you could call it a head, was bald and round on top. There was no hair on it. My single eye was joined to my face by a stretch of skin, and the face, horror of horrors, kept changing. The image in the mirror was dizzying to me. The face became a mask of horror, a comic smile, a wolf’s snarl. I couldn’t hold my gaze.
I stepped to the shower and manipulated the five knobs and three buttons that controlled the temperature of the water, the volume, the fragrance, and which of the several shower-heads the water would come from. In moments, I had everything adjusted to my comfort and I swarmed in.
As I reveled in the deluge, a memory came to me of a time when I just had two arms and when government regulations in the United States limited the power and volume of water delivered by showers, back when I was human. What wretched limitations I used to be subjected to. I scrubbed and scrubbed myself, from my cone to my wonderful, twirling tendrils. They danced under the loofa. They sang to me of their joy.
All too soon, the timer ended my shower and the warm air came out, blowing me dry. I realized I had never felt so clean. This was going to work out swell. An optimism I had never known filled me with joy.
I slid out of the shower and called to my wife with my mind, “I love you, dear”.
“I love you, too,” she hollered back. “Your fish are ready. You have to leave in ten minutes. Get a move on,” she added.
Then, she squawked. Her horrible bird mouth opened wide and the deafening sound made me cover my ears.
“I’m done with you, George. I can not stand it, anymore. We can’t go anywhere without you drinking too much and acting like a fool. Last night was the end.”
She was done and I uncovered my ears.
I ate my Spreul oats and packed a bag full of Spreul snacks for lunch.
Before I finished, Sugar had plugged herself into a Device. I blew her a kiss. She didn’t notice.
I swarmed out the front door and slid into my Transporter.
Another day at work!