[ WP ] You are a junkie and can no longer distinguish reality from your hallucinations and delusions .

Hernan sat on the wriggling maggot stool. It was soft and meaty and squirmed beneath him. His feet were planted firmly on the green carpeted floor. He rested his arms on his knees. The bipedal hamsterman sat across from him on the much more comfortable-looking couch, flicking through the channels on the old tele. 
 
 `` Hmm... There ai n't ever anything on, is there? That's the problem these days. Nothing's ever going on. Same damn thing over and over again,'' the hamster man mused out loud to himself. Hernan's bloodshot eyes opened wide. He licked his dry, peeling lips. His voice trembled `` D-did n't I kill you?'' 
 
 The hamster straightened his tie. On a closer look, it might've been just a man in an fur suit. His voice was deep and guttural. `` Yes. In sixth grade, you shoved me inside the oven. Just to see what would happen.'' He chuckled. `` You even helped the other schoolchildren make the'MISSING' posters. Everyone was so sad.'' 
 
 Hernan did nothing but stare at MacArthur as he flicked through the channels. He was so confused. He needed something that would help him think straight again, to clear his mind. Pulling himself up, he walked behind the couch and searched for his stash hidden in the floorboards beneath. 
 
 MacArthur watched him as he grew desperate, clawing meekly at the floorboards. 
 
 `` Are you *seriously* that out of it? Look around you. Look at the portraits hanging by the stairs, the little porcelain doll collection! Look at how *clean* everything is! Well, apart from the blood.'' 
 
 As MacArthur sighed, someone knocked on the door. `` It's the police,'' he told Hernan. `` Probably wandering why the neighbors are saying they saw some scraggily drug addict wander into the Abernathy's residence. You already killed the children, they would n't stop crying. It's too late for you. Just go and open the damn door. You need some help, you sick fuck.'' 
 
... 
 
 `` You sick fuck! ``, yelled Mrs. Abernathy, sobbing from her position on the floor. Her hands were bound and her legs broken by the intruder. Blood stained the carpet. Her blood. 
 
 The stranger slowly stumbled towards the front door in a stupor as the knocking grew louder. The people on the other side eventually began banging on the door and yelling. He stopped at the shiny metal handle for a moment and just stood there staring at it. Eventually he grasped it with one dirty hand. 
 
 And then Hernan opened the door. 
 
 He fell out of his bed, vomitting. Hernan felt like shit. It must've been a bad batch. Pulling himself up, he gulped down some water from the glass that he had set on his bedside some time earlier. 
 
 He turned to find MacArthur sitting on a green easy chair, watching the teletubbies. `` This shit is my jam.'' 
 
 
 
 
 

