Under the Cushions

January 25, 2008
As I flopped down on the couch I felt myself shrinking. I shrank and shrank and shrank until I could easily fit between the cushions. And fit between the cushions I did. I climbed down the side of one. My feet touched the springy dark material of the inside.

Light from the world above illuminated a pencil twice my size to my right. And to my left was a penny. I jumped over the penny and made my way to the other side of the cushion where I found a snapped toothpick and some used gum.

I spotted some lint in a shadowed corner. I thought I saw it move. Absurd! Lint can’t move. But it did. And it moved again. And again. It was creeping toward me. The lint was not very fast but I was very small. Closer, closer, closer it crept.

I backed away, unable to turn my back on the possessed lint. THUMP! I tripped over a piece of the toothpick and landed in someone else’s gum. It was recently chewed so it stuck to my clothes and ripped at my hair. The lint kept creeping c

I grabbed the toothpick and attempted to pry myself out of the sticky trap. The lint was too close for any hope now. Before it could grab me, I plunged the toothpick its fuzzy body. The lint monster stopped in shock.

I took the opportunity to rip myself out of the gum and run. The springy material propelled me along. The lint was left creeping in my dust.

The first chance I got, I climbed up the fabric wall of the cushion. The lint bit at my feet but I was too fast a climber. Soon I was at the top.

I was growing. And growing and growing until I was back to my normal size. I pulled the cushions off the couch and grabbed the cursed piece of lint. I promptly ripped it apart and threw it out the window. Then I settled back down on the couch to watch some t.v.

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