The fat, corpulent bastards had eaten through my eyes, begun there and then on my brain. They were making quick work. Already I could feel my soul burning in its cocoon, dying to be set free, not wanting any of this destruction. I made sneaky-like to grab the nearest, sharpest thing and stab into my left palm, thereby releasing my soul and exorcising the evil spirits as they passed up through my left foot and on into my groin, but suddenly I saw the error of my ways. I had an erection, bulging against the seams of my pants. I was painfully aware of its presence, felt the blood rushing from my head to accomodate for the sudden engorging of my member. The pen fell from my hands, clattering on the floor.
My plans had failed; my thoughts betrayed me. I had thought these plans of escape, of freedom for my soul, and they were now reading my thoughts. Before long, I would be unable to control even those few unoriginal notions I had left. Soon, I would be nothing, automatron. By thinking I could defeat them so easily, I had inadvertenly walked into their trap.
I realized, in growing horror, that not even my soul would be able to escape, but would be emprisoned in this body, even after the flesh had begun to rot. I gathered the last of my strength and hurled myself against my captors, only to come up against my own skin. I was caught. Retreat was the only option; retreat into the center of my head where, with any luck, I could fend them off. At least for a little while.
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