I wake up to find those glowing orange eyes staring at me, the long pink tongue flapping about manically, and the sharp teeth glinting.

Good, it will kill me now.

It slobbers on my ear.

There is nothing there.
Not even the Poodull/Poodle Beast. It must have returned to its lair with my heart.

I don’t feel surprised about hearing things. I am obviously hallucinating again, this time as a result of blood-loss.
I am surprised that the creature didn’t finish me off.

I put my head back on the ground and try to die some more. More effectively this time, I hope.

Mumphred.
Mumphred.
Wake up Mumphred.

‘Go away.’

Mumphred. I am not going to ‘Go away.’
Wake up.

‘Go. A. Way.’

Which way?

‘Any way that is away.’

You cannot lie there forever. Get up.

–

–

–

Ignoring me will not work either. I can be very annoying if needs be.
Do needs be?

‘No. Just go away.’

I can help you Mumphred. The Poodle can be defeated.
I know how.

‘Go away.’

Perhaps you are not yet ready for this. Or perhaps you are just too weak. But I saw the fight in you. You turned and faced it.

I turn my head towards the source of the voice.

Uuuurgh.

Something is missing.
I feel an emptiness instead as I lie on the floor. Desolate.

I’ve lost the heart to go on.
What’s the point now? Even though my confrontation with the Poodull has not physically destroyed me, I can see no point in continuing. If I get up now, it will probably just rip off my arm or something.

Pah!

I hear wet squelching noises nearby, with intermittent growling.
schloop schloooop qweeech ggraawp, grrrrrr

Disgusting. I don’t want to look. It sickens me. Make it go away.

I think I’ll just lie here. This bit of carpet is nice. Nice and grey and slightly dirty.
A perfect place to slowly rot away.

I lie still. I think I’ll soon drift off to sleep with the soothing lullaby schloop graaawp kruench schloooop qweeech ggraawp resounding in my ears.

Shit, I nearly drifted off there.

Need to stay alert so tha…

Gaaaah!

It grasps me by my leg. I scramble and scratch at the carpet desperately. I try to dig my hands in, but I can’t. I hear it make a noise, a horrible “grrrrrr” sound as it drags me out from under the couch.

It’s teeth are clamped into my thigh, but I don’t really feel any pain. It flicks my body up over its head and lets go of my leg. Briefly I fly before landing heavily on the carpet.
Immediately I’m up and running towards the nearest couch. I don’t look at it, I just run. Knowing it will take too long to get a safe distance underneath, I attempt to climb the couch. I immediately regret my decision.
It pounces on me and its maw clamps down viciously on my ear. The beast peels me off the couch and throws me to the floor.

Running and hiding bring me no success. I decide to stand my ground and fight. I get up and turn to face the beast. It pauses, and glares at me with its demonic orange orbs, hackles raised. Ragged off-white fur is spread manically about its face. It bares its teeth, and lets out a low growl.
I have no weapons, but I do have heart. I recall the power of the Care Bears’ countdown and attempt to invoke one to repel this most foul beast. I hold out my heart and shout, “Care Bears’ Countdown!”

I think I might not be a Care Bear.

It barks at me, and then rips my heart out.

I can’t sleep.
I don’t feel safe, despite what I keep telling myself.

What’s that noise?
Hissing? Sniffing? Nothing?

I can’t hear it anymore. Is there anything there?

I edge further back under the couch. I’m breathing quite heavily.

What was that?
Shit. Is it behind me?
I turn around. I catch a glint of orange in the dark, and then it’s gone.

Heart racing, I pull away. There’s nowhere to go. The couch isn’t against a wall. If I back up too far I’ll end up in the open.
Need to stay in the middle.

Focus focus focus. Where’s the middle of the couch? It’s too fucking dark. I can’t tell.

Listening. I hear a dull thudud-thudud-thudud. My heart in my hands. Can’t hear anything else. Is there anything else to hear?

Waiting. Concentrating.

I hear nothing else. My heart-rate slows. I start to relax.

I need to sleep. I’m so tired.
Can’t sleep. Must stay alert. This couch isn’t safe.
Must stay awake until morning, then sleep.
Sleep. Just for a short time. In the morning.
Then look for a safe-to-sleep couch against a wall.
Until the morning: no sleep.
No sleep until the morning.
Sleep until the morning, no?

I found a safe place beneath the couch.

I am safe
I am safe
I am safe
I am safe
I am safe
I am safe
I am safe
I am safe
I am safe
I am safe
I am safe
I am safe

God. Please let me be safe.

I have found no other tribe. I found a curse for the senses instead.

What I see is so horrible I feel the warm, stinging rush of bile rising in my throat. I turn away, gagging and coughing. I spew out a yellow-green mess upon the the floor, but the dry heaving continues. My stomach cramps and I choke. Nothing but foul air flows forth.

The reflex action subsides and I look back at the eviscerated plush. The internals are long since gone with the corpse terminating at the waist. One beady eye and one vacant socket stare at me vacantly. I see no sign of the legs.
There is a smell of decay about this place, and it’s clear that the plush has been dead a long time.

My initial visceral reaction of dismay and revulsion subsides, and I begin to feel afraid. What manner of beast would do such a thing?

I already know the answer to that question, and I clutch my heart tightly, seeking comfort. There is scant comfort to be had. My only security lies in the fact that it is daytime, and the creature seems to only come out at night.
I must make haste to find a shelter while the light still lasts. If the Poodull is not an hallucination, I doubt I will survive the night out in the open.

I lie still on the carpet. I don’t know how long I’ve been unconscious, but the darkness of the night is beginning to draw back. I’m scared to move in case the creature is still there — watching. Waiting for me to get up. Unresponsive prey is no fun to play with.
After lying still for an age, I get up. It is not an option to remain motionless on the carpet for the rest of my life, even if by standing up I shorten my life considerably.
Nothing happens. I blink in the twilight of the early dawn, but am unable to see the Poodull. Was it ever here at all? Or is it just hiding in the shadows behind the couch?

My head aches terribly, and the nausea still lurks in the background of my senses. Was it the lion’s dust that has done this to me? I look up at the table far above me, but the other plushies are either not on it or are staying away from the edge. I shout a curse up at the table for good measure. It is not a curse suitable for young audiences.

I think that perhaps there is another tribe of plushies in this region. A tribe that lives on the carpet, or the couches. Perhaps they will speak a language I can understand, and not be possessed by the superstitions of those table-dwelling morons.
As I think of it, the more obvious it seems that the Poodull was something my mind manifested. The strange lion-dust — certainly a hallucinogenic substance. The Poodull itself simply brought on by a combination of strong mental suggestion and the dust. That whole tribe is permanently high on the stuff, especially if they are always throwing it in their campfire. Drug induced mass hysteria and paranoia caused them to throw me off the table. I too was wrapped up in the mania as I struggled against a phantom monster.

I decide to investigate the couches and surrounding areas for other signs of habitation. I am sure that I will discover a friendlier society that will welcome me into their fold.
Today will be a good day.