Thus it was I found myself facing down the aquatic creature. Actually, this one seemed just as at home out of the water as in it. Added to that, it had tentacles at least twelve feet long. Things were not looking good.
If you haven’t read Part One, that won’t make any sense. So go ahead and do that. I can wait.
Done? Good. We may now continue.
If you have never had to fight an over-sized, amphibious cephalopod, consider yourself blessed. If you have, I would welcome any advice. Of course, giving me advice now doesn’t change the fact that I was in that situation with no clue what to do, but if I can pin down the exact relationship between the 42nd and 4th dimensions and enable quantum funneling…
Actually, let’s not go down that rabbit trail now. Because it doesn’t change the situation I was in.
There I was, facing down the creature, armed with nothing more than my bare hands and my own ingenuity. Well, they had given me a battle ax, but it was so heavy I could hardly do anything with it.
The beast slithered forward, its green and brown tentacles curling underneath its hulking, slippery body. It splashed through the swampy puddles of the arena, slowly but steadily making its way toward me.
I slowly backed away, trying to remember everything I had ever learned about octopi (and yes, I know some of you may not approve of that spelling of the plural, but if you follow the exact grammar rules, it’s technically ‘octopodes,’ which sounds terrible). Unfortunately, most of that had been either in Kindergarten (which I had forgotten) or Biology (which I had slept through). All I could remember was that they were not supposed to be this big or this aggressive.
The beast continued its slow, steady march forward. It wasn’t technically a march, but that word somehow seems to fit it best. I continued backing up until I ran into the wall. The amphibious cephalopod had me cornered.
I don’t know what made me think of this, but I recalled something about getting inside a giant monsters reach when it tries to grab you. Taking a deep breath, I charged forward, leaping over and ducking under the slimy appendages that lashed out at me. I rolled to a halt just in front of its gargantuan eye and got up. For one split second, I thought my plan had worked.
Unfortunately for me, octopi don’t have bones. Also, I had forgotten about the beak: a giant, rock hard beak, like that of a parrot on steroids. The sleek tentacles curled inward, wrapping around me, pinning my left arm to my side; I managed to keep my right free, but, being left-handed, that wasn’t much use. The brobdingnagian head quivered and the beak clacked ominously. In my present state, there was nothing I could do. Closer and closer to that hideous mandible I was drawn. There was no escape from here.