[ WP ] Put me into the mind of a sane man going insane .

“ Honey, does the plant pot seem off to you? ” 
 
 “ John, this is the third time you've asked this, there's nothing wrong with the plants. ” 
 
 John stared deeply at the plant. There was something not quite right with it, he was sure of it. It was not easily describable; it appeared to not exist in three-dimensions, but not two either. It was like viewing the object through the lens a camera. The object's outline was soft, and chromatic aberration created a holographic effect on the body of the vase. John was understandably confused by this phenomenon. 
 
 “ Sweetie, do n't you still need to finish our tax papers? ” 
 
 “ I know, I know Honey, I'll be right on it, do n't you worry about it. ” 
 
 John studied the plant pot for another half hour before he was pulled by his hair into his office. 
 
 John was a dreamer, primarily that of the American Dream. John worked in a dead-end nine-to-five job that made him want to kill himself on an almost weekly basis, but it paid for the bills, food, clothes, school, jewellery, Yoga classes, multiple cars, purses and handbags, breast implants and bi-annual holidays nicely, with some cash leftover for the mandatory pub-visits John had every night. He lived in a two-story suburban house with a wife who he believed was madly in love with him until he learnt the difference between that and lust, and two-and-a-half kids who did not love him unless he was buying them the'ZX-Phoneatron-Seven-Thousand-and-Whatever' every other week. 
 
 Life was simple, and everyone was happy. 
 
 John follows a routine. Routine means there is little differentiation in life, which is ideal for John. John wakes up, give his family a one-sided goodbye and goes to work. He tipper-taps on his computer, making spreadsheets and documents in'Coperatese', a language he still could not understand, and then heads home via the pub. 
 
 One evening, John's routine was disrupted. An unknown anomaly jammed John's clockwork life, which was a bad thing in his mind.. 
 
 The plant pot. 
 
 Plant pots are supposed to be normal. Just like tables, just like houses, just like everyone and everything. But the plant pot chose not to follow the norm, and instead crossed dimensions before John's eyes. John could not stop thinking about that plant pot. It bothered him immensely. His parents, teachers, companions; they never taught him how to react to this. He was powerless against the might of the extraterrestrial object. 
 
 John did not sleep. His eyes were wide open. If the bedroom door was opened at fourteen degrees, and he tilted to the side a bit, he could just about see the plant pot, existing, taunting John. John did not sleep at all that night. 
 
 Or the next night. 
 
 “ Sweetie, are you still awake? ”. John's eyes were dry and bloodshot. The door was open at fourteen degrees. “ This is n't healthy Jo-. ” 
 
 “ Shush, shush, do n't distract me. ” 
 
 “ John, you're getting way too sucked into this. It's just a pla- ” 
 
 “ Do n't! ” John snapped suddenly, and turned his head towards his wife. “ It's more than just a plant pot, it's an inter-dimensional artefact, I must observe it. ” John's head swivelled back to the plant pot. “ As my wife, I'd hoped you'd understand, but I guess you ca n't even do that for me. ” 
 
 She went back to sleep, her eyes wet and shivering. He stayed awake, eyes locked on the plant pot. 
 
 A stranger had intruded John's household and planted itself firmly into his property. And it brought its friends too. 
 
 The sofa was tilted very subtly, but John noticed even in his sleep-deprived state. Its right support had sunken into the marble floor, roughly three millimetres deep. The cushions vibrated, warming the air around them and blurring their edges. The sofa was also coloured a sickly neon green. 
 
 John chose to sit on the floor, for fear that the sofa would consume him were he to lie on it. This gave him the perfect angle to notice the curtains phasing between matter and non-matter. John covered his eyes and screamed. 
 
 The plant pot continued existing. 
 
 The sofa continued being green. 
 
 The curtains continued phasing. 
 
 John continued descending. 
 
 And she continued losing patience. 
 
 The kids did n't care. Daddy was just going through one of those'mid-life-crisis' things, as long as he brought their'all-in-one-phone-computer-tablet-best friend' for them, they did n't mind. 
 
 But John minded. Their'all-in-ones' were bugging; a glitch in the system. Coloured rays of light shot out in all directions, their focal point: the machines. John snatched them from his children's hands and threw them. They lay, sprawled across the floor, bits of motherboard and touch screen, and an explosion of light blinded John. 
 
 The kids cried like they had lost their family. 
 
 John cried like he had lost his mind. 
 
 She cried like she had lost her husband. 
 
 The family was together; unified, against the alien invasion of their household. Except only John knew this. The rest of the family thought he was crazy and ready for shipment to the asylum. 
 
 He probably was. But he was enlightened through the supernatural event, somewhat. He saw the alien nature of the material world. His mind was forming a world without phones and televisions and computers and plant pots. His mind envisioned a world devoid of materialistic and petty persons. It only contained people who were entertained by themselves and others, and not by black mirrors and moving pictures. John saw this world; stared deep into it, and he liked it. 
 
 The world in his mind manifested into a being. The being spoke into his soul. “ Rid your body of toxic materials. ” it said with ominous wisdom. “ Rid your mind of toxic materials ” it said with magnificent valour. “ Rid the world of toxic materials. ” it said with booming brilliance. 
 
 John was stunned, amazed, frozen solid with glee. He had been blessed with the knowledge of the almighty being. 
 
 “ O mighty one, how do I start on my great pilgrimage? ” 
 
 “ Your family, it is toxic. They restrained you, tried to divert you from my powerful gaze, as they have and will do with others. You must dispose of them, and others like them. I have faith in you John, that you will do the right thing. Now go forth, young pilgrim. ” 
 
 “ Yes, my lord, I will do as you wish. ” 
 
 John returned to his home. His family were still in tears, afraid of something. Was it John, who defied their values and destroyed the pointless items they insisted on giving value to? Or was it their reluctance to be enlightened, their reluctance to leave behind the materialistic society they were raised in. 
 
 John was consumed by his world, it had taken over his mind. He must dispose the toxic waste. 
 
 John grabbed the plant pot. Even though it travelled into parallel universes and perpendicular dimensions and diagonal existences, it fit firmly in his hand. She and the kids lay huddled together, bracing themselves for John's righteous wrath. 
 
 He threw the plant pot at her; the one whom he had vowed eternal love for. It smashed as it collided with her temple. She tumbled backwards and collapsed on her back. The kids looked at each other. 
 
 “ Mummy's dead sis' ” 
 
 “ Does this mean we get extra large phones Daddy? ” 
 
 “ Now children, I think we have had enough fun this morning. It's time to get dressed and go to school. ” 
 
 John cleaned up the mess. The kids stood in protest. 
 
 “ No... no new phones Dad, this is so... goddamn unfair! ” 
 
 “ Now now son, this is no time or place for language like that. Now please, both of you, get changed. ” 
 
 The kids reluctantly got changed and left for school. John was happy to be alone. There was one more phase to his mission, and he could not rest until he acted it out. 
 
 One match. One striking surface. One gallon of petroleum. One large flame. The toxic house was burned to the ground 
 
 Oh joyous joy. 
 
 Gorgeousness and gorgeosity itself. 
 
 He could smell the toxic fumes rising into the atmosphere. But he was contaminated; he too had become toxic from the toxic world's touch. He must cleanse himself in fire to satisfy his lord. 
 
 “ Oh my, how marvellous it feels to feel the plastic melt from my skin! ”
