Musings on a Plane

I and a fellow, unnamed travel companion (who insisted on being anonymous), were bored on a flight from Honolulu to LAX played a writing game were one person writes a sentence, the other modifies and so on. Here is the result:

Me: It was a dark and stormy night.

Traveling Companion: It was a cold, stormy night, when something awoke Griselmina with a start.

It was a fridgid, torpid evening when something slimy nudged Griselmina awake to a frightened start.

The night was turbulent and wild, when Griselmina awoke suddenly. Something slimy was silently slithering its way across her bedroom floor.

The night writhed in a fit of chaotic hail and lightening as Griselmina Castleford came to consciousness in abrupt fashion. Something was mewling as it slithered across the floorboards of her sleeping chamber. It left a glistening trail of mucous visible in the shimmering reflected light of the dying firepit embers.

The night writhed in a fit of chaotic hail and lightening as Griselmina Castleford came to consciousness abruptly. Something slimy was wriggling its way across the stained floorboards of her sleeping chamber. It was headed straight fot the peacefully slumbered nun lying in the sarcophogus opposite.

Griselmina Castleford slithered across the floorboards of the sarcophagus chamber towards the body of the nun as a blizzard raged outside.

Slithering across the grimy floorboards toward the unconscious nun who lay opposite on that stormy night, Griselmina Castleford stopped suddenly. Something slimy was protruding from the base of the chimney breast, oozing something that was eeking its way in her direction.

Griselmina Castleford stopped in front of the nun, noting that several tentacles were pushing through the wallpaper, oozing mucous onto the grimy floorboards below. She took off her hemp serape and began stuffing it down the nun's mouth.

Griselmina Castleford stopped in front of the nun, noting that several tentacles were pushing through the wallpaper, oozing mucous onto the grimy floorboards below. Startled that "they" would know what she was doing, she began stripping the nun bare in an instant. She took a knife from the bottom drawer of the blood-stained dresser and held it up above the nun's navel in the moonlight.

Griselmina held the razor above the naked nun's navel; she thrust down and slit the corpse up to the throat. Hundreds of inky tentacles burst out and spattered the yellowed wallpaper and grimy floorboards as the fire spit to a bitter end with the incoming hail granules.

With the dagger poised above the sleeping nun's naked body, Griselmina plunged down with all her might into her navel. Blood burst forth from the screaming body and spattered across the walls and stained floorboards. Griselmina Castleford looked down. There were hundreds of dripping tentacles writhing from the nun's now lifeless corpse.

With trepidation Griselmina stepped within the reach of the tentacled beast, it's maw and mandibles clomping with evident delight and anticipation. She swooped and slashed the beast's stomach sac with practiced accuracy, releasing the gasping nun in a pool of acidic mucous.

Griselmina writhed and kicked from within the hideous beast's stomach sac, praying vainly that someone could help, when light suddenly burst through the darkness and the creature let out a painful, haunting cry. She could see the nun standing there now the juices had all flown out, with the dagger in her hand, still drenched in the being's blood.

Griselmina felt warm and comfortable in the beast's oxygen-rich stomach; the nun was curled up next to her. They both munched on the organ's tender lining as the beast writhed in pain, its mewls carrying hauntingly over the blizzard draped moor.