(no subject)
At least he wasn't dead.
But he could smell things!...that much he knew. In fact, that was the first thing that he had noticed upon regaining conciousness.
Praise be to heaven! His sniffer suffered no damage!!
"What is that....."
Breath in.
"....god-awful....."
Breath out.
"....stench??"
Back came his keen eyesight.
"My my my....it is quite dark. Have I fallen into some sort of cavern perhaps? Am I a spelunker? Couldn't possibly...."
Obviously, his memory was somewhat short of complete at the moment.
Then his hearing returned.
"Wait....VOICES! It IS true! I have somehow joined a trip into the CAVES with a band of merry spelunkers!! What a grand day it will be once we can finally join together again and reach the surface! Ah, how I miss sweet Rain! It will be good to see her again after so many dank, dark, and dreary days here in this cave..."
With his six senses slowly catching up to his thoughts, Biggs was overjoyed. However, it did not take much to convince him that the situation would've been better had his sense of taste been left paralyzed...it only took a few drops of some sort of rank liquid from the cavern's ceiling falling to the corner of his mouth and creeping to the tip of his tongue.
"What is thi...ohhh.....unnngghhh.....how horribly disgusting! Damned tastebuds!!!"
The voices nearby grew stronger, although still muffled. Someone grunted. Then another grunted louder than the first(it seemed to be a young girl...who knew young girls could even grunt?) At this point, Biggs left all speculation out of his mind. He had been in such strange predicaments before, some with Rain and some with barn animals, that there was almost no guarantee that the unfolding events would resemble anything even remotely mundane. In fact, he felt almost certain that something queer was in process. Giant flying cats singing love songs, perhaps? An ocean made of human hair? Not out of the question.
Biggs stared in amazement as a small sliver of light appeared a few feet in front of him. It grew with every passing moment and soon entire cavern ceiling began to lift up!!
Strange indeed.
Much to Biggs' dismay(and nausea), the truth was much worse than any fiction could ever be....even Wuthering Heights.
Brutus, the burly, hairy, misanthropic behemoth of a sailor that had previously been strangling Biggs, only to meet his maker at the hands of Rain, had collapsed onto a small(yet incredibly sturdy) table. Under this table laid Biggs' motionless body.
It only took a few moments for Biggs to remember what had happened since he arose from bed that morning.
"Bread snaps. Stupid spoiled gi. Hungry. Bread snaps. Walking. Wallet? Hobo? Bread snaps? Yes, bread snaps. Munching. Crunching. Crunching. Screaming. Brutus. Pontiferous suffocatia. Dying. Dying. DYING!....dead....Bread snaps in heaven?"
For the last minute and a half, Rain and a few drunken, smelly sailors had been trying to pry Brutus off of the table. At eight-hundred and seventy-six pounds, Brutus' sheer volume prevented much from happening in this regard. Every time they would slide something under one of Brutus' many globulous masses of fat, another roll would slide down and engulf it. After much debating over a course of action, Rain quickly sprinted to the local machine shop and rented a medium-sized snow plow.
"Biggs?!!! Biggs???....Can you hear me? Say something! Please."
A faint voice comes from deep inside. "Yeah... I'm here."
"Good."
Rain reached deep under Brutus and grabbed Biggs' hand. She pulled so hard that she was afraid his arm might break.
Tears streamed down her porcelain cheeks.
Broken arm or not, she would never stop pulling Biggs from danger.