Derek Smith was having a bad day.
It started pretty good, though. After nine days on the road, Derek parked his truck on the parking lot near his apartement building. "Home at last." he though as he turned the key and opened the door to his apartement. "Time to kick back on the couch, watch some TV while Linda prepares my dinner, and afterwards wash off the stink of the highway and get a good night's sleep".
The lights were on, which was strange, because Linda was supposed to be at work. "Stupid bitch left those fucking lights on again, like electricity doesn't cost a damn thing.", he muttered as walked to the fridge to get himself a beer. That's when he noticed the sounds - muffled screams and groans coming from the bedroom. In that very instant, Derek knew what was what. He had seen some of those awful soap operas that Linda was always watching, and everything fitted the scenario perfectly: Faithful husband comes home unexpectedly after a hard day's work only to find his wife in bed with...
Derek kicked down the door of the bedroom, and sure enough, four legs were sticking out from beneath the blankets. He recognized Linda's pale, plumb legs. The olther pair was grey, wrinkled, hairy. Derek had seen this pair often enough, but his mind refused to accept the thruth. It was too wrong, it couldn't be...It all made sense though - the way he had acted at the wedding, her frequent visits, the elaborate letters they sent each other...
"DAD?!"
The thirty minutes that followed were like a blur to Derek. Things were said, nasty things, painful things. His dad had accused him of being a bad husband (true), Linda had accused him of having a tiny penis (true), he had accused his dad of sexual molestation (false), he had accused Linda of cheating (well duh), Linda had accused him of cheating (sorta), he had killed them both. This last fact stood out like a beacon in his mind, and he shuddered as he recalled some of the more gruesome details. He knew he couldn't stay in his apartement, so had run away, breaking the lock beyond repair on his way out. He had found an alley, where he lay down behind a dumpster, and prompty fell asleep.
When he woke up, he found that he couldn't move his arms. After opening his eyes, he discovered that this was because both arms were locked tighly beneath a brown surface, like a dirty piece of cloth, holding down his arms as though it were a straitjacket. Upon further inspection, Derek saw that this cloth also covered his legs and his bare feet. "My boots! Where the fuck are my boots?" Derek yelled. In front of him, a strong acid started eating a hole in the side of the dumpster.
It took Derek a couple of minutes to figure out what had happened. When he had tried to yell, he had spat out a cloud of acid. "What the fuck is going on?" he mumbled, thus creating a second hole in the dumpster. "Alright, calm down Derek, there must be a logical explanation for all of this. Facts. I need facts. Fact 1: I'm covered head to toe by some sort of strange cloth, might be leather, my arms are trapped beneath it. Fact 2: My vocal cords have been replaced by acid glands. Fact 3: I killed my wife and father OH GOD OH GOD. Conclusion: I don't know what the fuck."
With great difficulty, Derek raised himself to his feet, and began shuffling towards the end of the alley. When he got to the street, he saw that he wasn't the only one. Demonic creatures were stumbling through the dense fog, looking just as confused as Derek was, struggling to free their arms, accidentally killing each other with a deadly cloud of acid when trying to communicate. One of them was lying on the street, using his legs to crawl forward, the asphalt scraping bloody holes in the leathery skin that covered his whole body.
Derek felt relieved at the sight. "I'm not alone. I have to contact them, convince them to help me. Together, we might be able to find a cure for whatever the fuck is going on with us." He started to make his way through the fog - "Fog? In April?" - towards a small group of demons, who were succesfully managing not to kill each other with their acid, and who stood together like a bunch of sheep, clueless and scared. When Derek had almost reached the group, one of the demons turned his head, noted the lone figure shuffling towards them, and started looking even more scared. The others noted this, turned to see Derek, and then began shuffling away from him. Nobody said a word, but Derek could feel one word in his consciousness, as if the whole group of demons had telepathically flung it at him.
"MURDERER!"
"Alright," Derek thought, "Fine. I don't need you freaks anyway, I'll find a cure myself, and fuck you, you're not getting any of it. Besides, the bitch was asking for it, and so was that old dick, I mean you could hardly call it murder, it was...self-defence, yeah, the old man totally attacked me first, I had no choice, STOP SHUFFLING AWAY YOU PRICKS!" Now he was alone, fog in all directions. Derek started shuffling down the street in the direction the group had went, meanwhile cursing them for running - stumbling - away from him because he had made ONE SMALL MISTAKE THOSE THINGS HAPPEN OKAY?! When he got to the corner, he saw blood smeared out over the asphalt, left there by the crawling demon. Derek decided to follow the traces - maybe that crawling guy wanted to be his friend. The blood led him to a small tunnel. Dead end, no demon in sight. Exhausted from all the shuffling, Derek lay down.
As he woke up, he saw that a second person had entered the tunnel. A tall guy, blonde, green jacket...a human! Derek stood up, his mind racing. "A human, maybe he can find a cure, I need his help, oh God please let this human help me."
"Hi there!" Derek said cheerfully.
The human recoiled, covering his face with his arms, and grabbed a piece of wood.
"Oh shit. The acid.", Derek though. "Oh shit oh shit, I'm sorry, oh shit oh shit oh shi-"
The plank came down, crushing Derek's skull. "Today's not a very good day", Derek thought, and then his thoughts stopped.
