Trilby fist is stuck to my face. As he tries to pull it away, the skin stretches and warps, and half of my face is torn off in a spray of blood and bone. From underneath, Diet coke Pepsi zero beings to pour out in a steady stream. My shadow is taller than I am now, stretching across the floor, limbs elongating in a twisted parody of anatomy. I roll my head, cracking the vertebrate as my skin sloughs and drips off my skull onto the ground. I reach foward and grasp Trilby by the shoulders, sinking my fingers into his flesh as my eyeballs swell and burst, releasing a torrent of brightly-coloured fluorescent babies
I whisper, impossibly loudly
"[i/]What team, Trilby?[/i]"
[img/]http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/teWOp0I-gwM/hqdefault.jpg[/img]