I woke up and stared at the clock. It was

I woke up and stared at the clock. It was a lot later than usual. What had I been doing the night before? It felt like a small rodent had climbed into my mouth and died overnight.

I opened my mouth and pulled out a deceased chinchilla. I rushed to the bathroom desperate to get the fur off my uvula. Looking at the mirror, I noticed fine whiskers sprouting

from my cheeks. And were my two front teeth elongating? By the power of Crom, I was becoming a chinchilla! This was my punishment for years of chinchilla-eating. I regretted

NOTHING. Those chinchillas, roasted, fried and sauteed were delicious! I prayed to Crom to halt my chinchilla transformation but she was engaged elsewhere.

Crom was in fact stitching together a silky patched rendition of a robe for my ultimate ascension to Chinchilladom. Language soon fled my facilities and I grew hair in places they

had told me would only grow in emergency situations. Chinchilladom was close, it had to be. No words, too much hair, the signs were all pointing to it. Or a brain aneurism. Perhaps

I should check out symptoms instead? No, I was thinking too far ahead. My head was too far into dreams of a land filled with marsupials, so to speak. Is that too literal? Am I

just paranoid of coming down with aurora australitis, which transforms a victim's flesh into dazzling, psychedelic lights adorning The Land Down Under. I looked in horror as

The infernal disco ball dazzled it's way towards me. So it came down to this, me vs the aurora australitis. Well, it wasn't making ME no aurora Borisralititis! I dived towards it

and with a crash, landed in a mirror maze. Natasha tugged at my sleeve. "Boris dahlink," she said, "I told you not to take ze brown acid. Ve've gotta get outta here." So we split.