Cuddly from the Bowels of Hell

15 Nov

Help me, dear God. I am trapped and I can not speak.  Why do they torment me day after day? I am afraid of the Lamby. I want to run and hide from the Lamby.  But If you can neither run nor walk, nay even crawl you are damned to your fate.

Yesterday, I tried with all of my strength to roll over.  My lungs burned and I could feel the perspiration drip onto my tiny lashes. I succeeded at last.  For the first time.  I had triumphed.  I was far away from the Lamby. But, alas, soon they swaddled me head to toe. I could scarcely breathe.  I could hear my heart beating like the wings of a butterfly. Then they trebled their cruelty.

They wedged the Lamby next to my face. The icy  black eyes of that wooly Satan bored into my very soul. I screamed.  I begged for release from this itchy horror. They came to my rescue.  Or that is what I surmised until they thrust that demon lamb into my face over and over.

The more I begged to be free of the Lamby the more they made their  high-pitched witchy, coochy, coochy coos. Exhausted I fell into a dreamless sleep.

When I awoke I felt a crushing weight like a sodden corpse pinning me against the rail of the crib. It was the Diabolic Plush. It was the Lamby.

I surrendered. I relinquished my identity. I accepted its hold over me.  I am the Lamby.  The Lamby is me.

 

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One Response to “Cuddly from the Bowels of Hell”

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  1. Tweets that mention Cuddly from the Bowels of Hell « -- Topsy.com - November 15, 2010

    […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Bill Steinkellner, Bill Steinkellner. Bill Steinkellner said: Cuddly from the Bowels of Hell: http://t.co/IguxDwp […]

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