He was sitting on the sofa one morning. Dazed after a good night of sleep. He tried to recall his dream last night. That's when he started clearing his throat. It felt dry and itchy. So he coughed. And coughed again. Something was in his mouth now. Sticking his fingers in, he pulled out a ball of blue fur. He stared at it for a moment. Where did this come from? It didn't feel like synthetic fur. It felt real. And warm. No eyes though. He brought it to the sink to wash off the saliva, then dried it with some paper towels. It was breathing. He could feel it pulsating in his hands. And it was getting heavier.
Is this part of me? He wondered. It can't be. No part of him was blue. This was strange. What could he use it for? He bounced it on the floor. But it didn't bounce well. He brought it to the kitchen counter and took out a cutting board. He found a meat knife from the drawer. He began to cut. The sound of its flesh splitting was like cutting into a fishball. But more fluid. More like a pomegranate perhaps. There was no scream. No struggle. No movement now. The insides splilled out. It looked like spaghetti cabonara. And it smelled good too.
He could not resist the urge. Quickly, he collected the mess off the board and spilled them into a frying pan. Some ready chopped garlic and onions thrown in and he was frying. The aroma filled the kitchen. Brunch would be served soon.