Beware the Mouth Octopus
The mouth octopus struck me earlier.
I went to take a gentle sip from my water glass. Little did I realise, that in my vulnerable, hungover state I had been violated in the most hideous and odious manner.
The Mouth Octopus had descended.
As I lifted the glass to my lips, he struck. Suddenly my mouth was no longer it’s normal self, my lips not the cautious beings they once were.
Thirsty tentacles sensed the nearby liquid and started clawing impatiently, clamouring for moisture, relief. There was nothing I could do to stop them. They grabbed, clawed, entwined themselves around the pure, clear nourishment they were longing for. They would not, could not stop until the glass was drained. I could do nothing to stop them.
Unfortunately, to all those around me, the Mouth Octopus was invisible, thus the only thing noticable to onlookers was a dribbling wreck of a waitress not quite in control of her mouth. Sounds about right.
