Author's Note: This short story came about during my Writing and Rhetoric class, where we were each asked to bring in a news article. We then chose a favorite line from the article and put it up on the board. Then we were told to create a story using as many of the lines as we pleased.

This is what I came up with, managing to use no less than seven lines from the board.

Carnivorous sponges, blind creepy-crawlies adorned with hairy antennae and ribbed worms.

Sounds like something out of a Goosebumps book, right? Well, this isn't something out of some crazy kids' book. This here is reality. And that big, soft, carnivorous sponge is the product of all my hard work.

I wasn't trying to create a carnivorous sponge. Actually, it was my intent to clone my older brother, whom had passed away the year before. I remember the day I got the call. Apparently he had tried to steal an adult video from a truck stop and was caught by a pair of police officers who had stopped by to pick up some Yoohoo's for the road. After calling them, "Knuckle-scraping mouth-breathers", he kneed them both hard in the guts, jumped into his car, and took off.

My brother, Parker, got to the highway before he accelerated too much and the car caught on fire. He spun out of control and soon crashed into a side guard. After crashing, he then stripped himself naked and led the Reading police department on a highway chase on foot, during which they viciously gunned him down.

I missed my brother. We'd always been so close. All I wanted was to have him back in my life, to give me advice on women and let me smoke his weed.

I took a sample from his old hairbrush and got to work. After two years, what I ended up with was my lovable, squishy creepy-crawly.

I named her Stella.

She does not stand very tall. She's more of a blob. She has no arms and legs, but otherwise, she has two noses, two pairs of lips and two pairs of eyes. She is, like I said, blind. I suspect there were two samples on the hairbrush I used.

Either way, I've come to love what I ended up with. Stella really is a sweetheart, so long as I steal her a body from the nearest morgue every now and then. You know how those carnivorous sponges are.

On normal days like these I go home after a hard day at couples counseling, after spending hours listening to stuff like, "He can never be truly happy with me because I'm not Asian" and "To Nancy, I am her husband carrying our child". I take off my hat and jacket, and prepare to give Stella her speech lesson.

"Stella! I'm home!"

But today something is amiss. Something doesn't feel right. I go down to my lab, and Stella's electric playpen is empty! She has escaped!

I slide to the floor. First I lose my brother, and now this? On top of that, I never wanted to be a counselor. I had been a mechanic and loved my job, but then they cut wages of mechanics and quickened the pace of work, so was forced to quit.

"Oh, Stella!" I cry. "Where have you gone?!"

I immediately throw my hat and jacket back on and begin a fruitless search through the city streets for my beautiful creation. I return home three hours later, heartbroken. I have lost the will to live. Simply nothing more for me to giveā€¦ There is nothing more for me. Need the end to set me free.

But before killing myself, I figure I should watch some TV for the last time.

"Carnivorous sponge runs rampant through downtown!"


I jump to my feet, throwing on my coat and hat once again. Everything is going to be just fine. I couldn't be happier!