Feeling around with my hands, I find that the counter and sink are still present. For no real reason but experimentation, I turn on the sink. For a moment nothing happens, then there is a sharp cough and blast of air, followed by a quick burst of liquid, then more violent coughs that shake the counter as if the pipes are choking to death. The sound is hideous, and I reach out to turn the sink off. As I'm outstretching my hand the faucet emits a series of liquid blasts and then coughs up something alive and squirming onto my hand.

I scream and try to fling it off but I can feel tiny bristles clinging to my skin. I feel the thing writhing wetly against the back of my hand, smooth and slippery, making nearly ultra-sonic, rat-like squeals.

Still screaming, I smash my hand against the wall as hard as I can, and feel hot goop spray up my sleeve. The thing stops moving but I can feel its dead weight still hanging from the hundreds of bristles embedded in my skin. I claw wildly at my hand until the thing peels off, like tough velcro, and falls to the floor with a wet plop.

I back into the corner against the knob-less door, and take huge, trembling breaths. Those football-playing bastards. They're going to win. They're going to make the artsy-boy cry.