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Bleat pt2

Having discovered that his presumed assailant is a sentient being capable not only of controlling it’s vocal chords into spitting out sophisticated chains of vowels and consonants but also attaching symbolic meaning to them, Arthur suddenly realised the reality of his nudity.  As his primal urge to defend himself turned into an equally primitive sensation of terror. He turned his side to the ram, leaned over the wall with his shoulder, pulled his knee towards his stomach and his arm over his face. Hoping to shield himself as much as he can. The ram in the refrigerator grew increasingly impatient over Arthur’s state of shock.

“Brr, bit chilly here. Why don’t you go ahead and put on some clothes, I’ll just make my way to the sofa.”

Arthur, lowered his knee from his stomach and placed both his feet firmly on the ground. With one hand placed over his crotch and the other extended in front of him so as to make sure the distance between him and the ram is preserved. He walked backwards keeping his eyes firmly on the now bipedal ram, stepping out of the fridge. Arthur backpaddled his way toward his room taking quick glances over his  shoulder in anticipation of anything that could emerge in his messy house which might obstruct his panic stricken retreat.

With the joy of having survived the terrifying trip into his room, Arthur rushed over to his cupboard. He did not have the time to smell out the least used piece of underwear from his laundry bag. He shoved his shaking hand into a collection of filthy socks, towels and pants and pulled out a fistful of fabric, among which he managed to identify a pair of red boxer shorts. In his rush he did not even notice that he had them on both backwards and inside out. He tried to think of something he could use as an improvised weapon as he rumbled through his clothes, but he rapidly abandoned the idea.

He slowly emerged out of his room, head first. As he looked over in the direction of his couch the ram turned to face him with a freshly lit cigarette clasped tightly between it’s cloven hooves.

“Relax old boy! Nothing to worry about. Why don’t you come in here so we can discuss.”

Arthur cautiously approached the living room, pulled a chair from the side of the dinner table and seated himself at what he considered to be a safe distance from the creature seated on his sofa.

“Do you not remember me Arthur?”

Arthur, stared at the lamb with his mouth wide open. Tried to mumble something, but sound simply refused to crawl out of his parched throat.

“Well allow me to refresh your memory then. 1975? Remote electro convulsive therapy experiments? Of course I personally don’t remember any of it, I merely know from what I have been told.”

Arthur did not have the faintest idea what the ram was talking about. He knew exactly where he was five years ago, and it had nothing to do with no ‘remote electro convulsive therapy’. What the hell did that mean anyway? When he managed to pull his thoughts together and got himself as accustomed to his present situation as he could, he straightened on his chair, took a big gulp.

“I-I’m sorry”

“Oh, Arthur. Let’s cut out the apologies shall we? You think I came here to hear some bleeding heart whinging about how you were only doing your job?”

The ram put a sarcastic emphasis on the last few words. His croaking voice added greater strength to he point he was making about Arthur and his pathetic condition. He had expected Arthur to cower further as a result. So he interpreted the present lack of response to his intimidating sarcasm as evidence of the state of shock his current victim is already in. It did not occur to the ram that Arthur had no idea what he was talking about. Arthur once more attempted to speak with great effort.

“No. I-I mean. I’m sorry. I-I don’t know w-what you’re talking about.”

“Look Arthur, this is ridiculous. You bloody well know what I am talking about.”

“No! Sir! I mean! What are you? What is this?”

“I do realise it must be difficult for you to converse with creatures you have tortured Arthur. But can you just skip this ridiculous pretence so we can discuss more pressing matters?”

The accusation fell like a boulder into the terrifyingly still pond of Arthur’s consciousness. The ripples spread across his body, caused a chain reaction of synapses. His tendons strained, his pupils dilated. He found the courage to rise from his chair and even to raise his voice.

“What? What pretence? What torture?”

“Listen, I did not come here for revenge. If it was revenge I was after, I could have obtained that a long time ago. If you find complete denial makes it easier for you to deal with what you are, then be my guest. Now can we get to the matter at hand?”

“No! I will not have any of this!”

“You will not have any of what Arthur?”

“This… Whatever this is. A talking ram leaping out of my fridge, telling me I am a torturer. This must be some sort of a dream. I will snap out of this!”

The ram snorted a sigh, or sighed a snort. pulled out an attache case from within his wool, ignoring Arthur’s expression of disbelief. ‘If you are not willing to listen to me willingly Arthur, I am afraid I have no choice but to make you.’ Arthur turned around to grab the wooden chair he had dragged from the dining table, the motion had seemed unusually difficult. A cramp slowly started invading his body.  He found himself staring at the enormous needle the ram brought out of the suitcase. His efforts of lifting up the wooden chair in self defence were all in vain, he found he was not even able to move his jaw to shout out for help. The only sound that came out of his vocal chords got reduced to punctuated gasps and whistling sighs.  The ram approached holding the needle.

“What reason do you have to believe this is a dream Arthur?”


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