Chapter 35 Chapter Thirty-Five Wake Up, We Are Hungry

Waking up on linoleum floors is becoming an annoying habit.His head started hurting again.This time, however, he knew right away that the pain was from a hangover. The blinding lights in the kitchen hurt his eyes.He saw a swarm of flies swarming around the clear plastic shade of the fluorescent light.These bugs all tried to fly towards the fluorescent lamp, moths rushing to the flame, and then they were cooked, and ended up being scorched and smashed to pieces. His leg hurts.His stomach growled too.The first thought (besides the bug) that came to mind was that he really hadn't eaten any food for the past three days.Of course, it depends on how many days he was in a coma again this time.There was no sunlight coming in from the living room, so it was obviously night.

He looked down at his leg, the bleeding had stopped.The original gray of the sports tee has now become a dry brown, definitely a tie-dye fabric suitable for the musicians in Marilyn Manson's band. On the linoleum floor was a layer of dried blood, the dark brown contrasting sharply with the snow white.It looked like a 3-year-old had just finished kicking a ball in the rain, came through the door covered in mud, and rolled onto the floor of the house. His leg started to ache again, probably because the wound was gradually healing. The "six samurai" didn't seem to show their power, and those places felt neither painful nor itchy.But that didn't make Perry feel relieved, wondering what those little bastards looked like now.

"The 'Six Samurai'?" Perry's mouth curled into a schadenfreude smile. "Forget it. I've taken care of another one. You're not the 'Six Samurai' anymore—now you're just the 'Five Tigers.'" .” He wanted to find the fork, the fork he'd used to scoop the damn thing out of him.He wondered what the blue triangle looked like when it was no longer attached to his leg like a wallaby in its mother's pouch. Not only did his leg hurt badly, but he also had an indescribably weird feeling.What good did the ghost triangle do when it was pulled out?

Perry struggled to stand, trying to keep his weight on his uninjured leg.He hopped a few steps on one foot, leaned against the cabinet, and searched the ground for a fork.It slipped to the refrigerator. He jumped over cautiously, leaning against another cabinet, and stooped to pick up a fork. "I hope it hurts you, you bastard," Perry whispered as he inspected the loathsome loot. The triangle looks like a piece of dry black seaweed wrapped tightly around the fork.He couldn't even see the triangular shape it used to be, it was now a shapeless piece of waste, exuding the breath of death, and it couldn't make waves anymore.

But it was not the triangular corpse that caught his attention and made him startled from ear to ear.totally not. The thing's tail was as dry, lithe, and stiff as its body, but there was something unexpected about its end.Hook-like bony projections protrude from the end of the tail like tiny pincers or sawtooths.Perry touched one of them cautiously—it was as sharp as a blade, just like the butcher knife he used to slash his own calf like a cannibal.There are some internal hooks in the jaws, and some nicks and cracks can be seen.He guessed it was there to help them attach their tails to his shinbones.Among them, however, were five pincers, some with their jaws turned outwards and others hooked viciously toward the now-siccated triangular head.

"But what does that help them hold?" Perry murmured, "What the hell is this?" His lips began to tremble violently as he suddenly realized the purpose of the hooks.The upturned and everted hooks don't help it hold the tail in place, but they'll swing those sharp blades around when someone tries to dig the triangle out of the host's body. That's why his legs were bleeding profusely as he pulled five quarter-inch-long, razor-sharp pincers out of the flesh of his calf and out of his leg bone. They are defending themselves.If Perry were to remove the triangle, they would hurt him.He now knew what was hiding inside him, and the claws were a warning of what would happen if he forcibly removed the triangle again.Lucky for him with that leg—if one of those wicked pincers had severed an artery, he'd probably be dead.

Perry didn't know if he should go ahead and try to dig out the rest.But obviously violence is not the right way to...to... Perry blinked, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but his mind went blank. He clearly heard a voice.Is he about to lose his mind?In addition to vaguely remembering the fragment of his melee with the triangle, he also had the same voice constantly circling in his drunken brain.Well, before he died, he had a schizophrenia.He's going to be as stupid and dumb as the toucan on the bag of Cheerios and Cocoa Balls cereal, and he's going to have a schizophrenia.

"I'm crazy. Yeah. I'm a fucking lunatic. That's the only way to explain it." "You're not crazy we don't think you're crazy" The sound made Perry shudder.He swallowed, momentarily ignoring the inappropriate rumbling from his flat stomach. The voice just said "We don't think you're crazy". us. Because there is more than one. because…… Because they are the "five tiger generals". Perry couldn't help but gape - his mind went blank. "What a son of a bitch I am," Perry muttered under his breath. "son of a bitch"

The voice echoed, and he could hear it clearly.Although his ears received no audible signals, he distinctly heard voices emanating from his brain—no vocal or tonal signature, just fragments of speech. "Feed us son of a bitch" it is them. "Five Tiger Generals".They speak in his brain.Perry slumped down beside the cabinet, nearly hitting the floor as if he had been punched hard.The rash on his body, which had first turned into a triangle, was now talking to him again.Should he answer them? Hello, thought Perry—no answer.He tried his best to concentrate.concentrated.Hello, he thought as hard as he could, still no response.

"Feed us we're hungry" "Hello?" Perry whispered in surprise. An answer roared in his mind, just like the cheers of the Rose Bowl final on New Year's Day. "Yeah yeah feed us we're hungry" They answered him!Perry squinted and "thought" as loud as he could.Why didn't you answer me just now?He waited, but still no response.answer me! His stomach started growling again, and there was a tumbling sensation in his stomach.Although the voice in his head shocked him, he had to admit that the hunger was gnawing at him. "I'm hungry myself," Perry whispered.

“We feed us too we are hungry” He raised his head as if suddenly understanding. "Can you hear me?" "Yes we can hear" "You talk in my brain, but you can't receive my thoughts?" "We send you messages through your nerves, but your nerves don't send your messages back to us. Are you hungry now?" There was a dumbfounding expression on Perry's face, and he was tongue-tied.He let out a sickly, twisted howl, a desperate laugh that sounded like the hell that once echoed in Andersonville, Buchenwald, or anywhere in history where humans had given up all hope. Perry held back tears, an inexplicable emotion welling up in his heart.He was suffocating, and even his good leg was weak.He collapsed on the kitchen cabinet, head drooping, eyes staring at the ground, but saw nothing. "Feed us we're hungry" The voice in his head got louder, and the rumbling in his stomach got louder.The sharp pain in his stomach made him throw his unhappy thoughts away.He hadn't had a drop of water for several days.Biting hunger surged up together with a slight nausea. "Feed us son of a bitch we're hungry" The voice in his head (it's funny to say so solemnly, since the word was originally a term used for comedy or horror novels, and now it's used here quite accurately) became disorganized and began to speak incessantly. Shout repeatedly. "Hey us hey us hey us hey us" Perry hopped on one foot to the refrigerator and opened the door to find food.Some tuna left, half a bucket of cheese, a bottle almost full of Hershey's chocolate syrup, an expired bottle of strawberry jam - and, found - an unopened jar of tomato bolognese for pasta . Perry took the jar of pate out of the refrigerator and began searching the cupboard for noodles.He's been really unlucky lately, but he didn't find anything, only some instant rice and half a bag of ordinary rice.He also found a bucket of Campbell's pork and beans, half a loaf of bread, and a tin of butter. Never mind, let's eat first—he's so hungry that he'll swallow a cockroach that's only dipped in chocolate sauce.He stuffed two slices of bread into the oven and another piece into his drooling mouth.He opened the can of pork beans and took a deep breath: "Good good good good good" Then pour them into bowls and put them in the microwave.He swallowed the bread in his mouth, then tucked in another piece, and as the bread was baking in the oven, he added two more slices. The microwave timer beeped, and Perry brought out the piping hot bowl, grabbed the toast, and jumped to the table.There were wet blood all over the table, so he decided to lean against the side of the cabinet to eat.He opened the silverware drawer, took out a fork, and eagerly began to gobble it up, not caring whether the beans would burn his tongue. Apart from a few pieces of toast and some fried eggs, he hadn't eaten in days.He enjoyed the food contentedly.The taste of canned pork and beans seemed to be much more delicious than the prawns, steaks and even the delicious salmon in the lake that he had eaten before. After eating all the beans and bread, he felt fine.The hunger subsided temporarily, and the only problem at hand reappeared.He realized that the "Five Tiger Generals" hadn't said a word since he started eating. "Hello," Perry said.It was amazing how he could talk to these triangles embedded in him, talking to him through their own nervous system. "Hey, are you still there?" "Yes we are" They sound calm, much more relaxed than when they complain about hunger. "Why don't you talk anymore?" He wanted to hear them talk, because he wanted to know more about this horrible strange thing, and there was another reason, they had been quiet these days, and when they were quiet, it meant They are thriving. “Waiting for food now” These words made him tremble, and he understood the situation in an instant.These triangles were like tapeworms or some other parasite, sucking up his digested food.Although he knew that the huge triangular body survived in his body, this way of sucking people's blood was even more frightening. The creatures were embedded deep in his muscles, tendons, and bones, piercing his circulatory system like a calf sucking its mother's milk.Anger swelled inside him, erupting like lava.But with the rising anger, he suddenly realized something. They can't eat unless he eats, which means they don't feed on his body.good news?They don't eat you from inside you.bad news?They grow faster thanks to the ingestion of highly nutritious canned pork beans.He felt desecrated, like a victim raped by a horrible creature. The pain in the body hit more intensely.His head was hurting, his legs were hurting, and his stomach was getting nauseous.He began to drowsy.He wanted to slump down on the bed at once, forget the whole thing, and resign himself to fate. He tried his best to hop to the edge of the sofa with one foot, resisting the desire to plunge into the warm cushion, and carefully put his injured leg on it first.The sofa seemed to be caressing his body, sucking the pressure out of him, letting it out, maybe, into the dust under the sofa, into the coins that rolled under it.Maybe he would die in his sleep, but he couldn't resist the drowsiness that came over him.