Through The Phone

An impossible scenario that I would much like to experience.

     The phone is pressed to my ear and the voice on the other end has lost its meaning. It's a man, I know, but what he's saying is oblivious to me. I'm dazing. My whole body is relaxed, though I'm standing. I feel like I'm falling in on myself, but the shell of my bones and skin case keep me upright. Words gush into my ear. They feel like muck, slimy words. I'm disgusted, but I can't pull the phone away. The man might find out, then the words would never stop. I wait patiently, my hand trembling from the effort of holding the suddenly agonizingly heavy phone. The muck gushes from the speaker like play-dough and slithers into my ear. It feels wet. As if the words have taken life once being spoken, they push into my head of their own accord and I feel their weight in my mind, pressing on my already sluggish brain. The goo slicks into the crevices of my brain and sits, hardening. Finally the man stops talking, but I barely notice. His words have invaded my mind and encased my brain with their muck. I'm not the same as I was before I picked up the phone. I wish I hadn't.

Author's Note

I wonder what slime on your brain would feel like.