Time For Teletubbies: A Lovecraftian Horror

Chapter III

     His escape was cut short by the powerful and unforgiving hands of all four Teletubbies clamping down on him. Gone was the façade of innocence they had maintained for so long. Its replacement was an overwhelming aura of animalistic cruelty and cutthroat intelligence.

     They dragged him for what must've been miles. He was thrown down on the ground with the drenched clothes on his back having been reduced to shreds. The impeccable greenery of Teletubbyland had been defiled by a streak of red. The magic windmill, now far beyond sight, kicked up another mighty wind of heathenry and deception. And, in seconds, the bloodstains were no more. The Teletubbies all jumped around and squirmed with sickening glee. Dipsy conjured up a zebra-patterned tophat hat from nowhere – a hideous thing of black and white, and so big it could encapsulate a child – and screeched with excitement as he yanked Jacob to his feet.

     The hat came down upon his head and swallowed him up to his torso. Dipsy promptly flipped it over so Jacob's legs were dangling in the air and his head was cramped in the hat now resting on the ground. He felt a blow. And another. And another.

     "Tinky Winky!"

     A blow so monstrous it knocked him out cold.

     He woke up on the floor of an utterly alien craft. His clothes, save for his socks, had all been removed. A sentient vacuum-like being was busy slurping his socks right off of his feet with an elongated tentacular tube. A name, as old as time and as intimidating as the face of God himself, spontaneously appeared in the back of Jacob's mind. Noo-Noo. This visceral creature – a mechanical thing with a black and blue exterior and unfeeling googly eyes – stole the socks and slid away without a sound. Jacob was in too great a shock to do anything about it.

     A projection appeared on the ceiling from seemingly nowhere at all. It started out as static. Only slowly did an image begin to emerge upon it. Jacob did not bother getting up from the freezing cold floor. His curiosity was too commanding for that. Instead, he watched; even when it became clear that the image was nothing he wanted to see. It was an image of children. Dozens of them. Well-clothed. Well-fed. But broken nonetheless. They sat around in separated cages, guarded by some black-furred being whose face lay just beyond the projector's view. Their eyes were hollow. Their mouths were closed. Their bodies were almost motionless. They simply stared into the distance; not wandering, not struggling, not even raising a finger to play or complain or imagine or merely feel something novel. They were toddlers, but they had already lived lives filled with far more woe than the most sorrowful of old men.

     The image switched to a different scene. Jacob's tearful eyes went wide with animalistic fear. No longer was he forced to see the suffering of the young. Now, he was subjected to watching adults being pulverized and processed into a chunky and uneven pink slime. They were fed, kicking and screaming, into a most gruesome blender of the most gargantuan proportions. Limbs and organs fell out of the machine at random, and Noo-Noo came around sucking them all up with obvious joyousness. Jacob looked around. Noo-Noo was nowhere to be seen. The image shifted, slowly but surely, along a tube that led from the blender to a faucet. A pink sludge was all that was left of the bodies of the fallen. Beneath the faucet was a cup, and into the cup was coming all of the sludge in a sickeningly smooth liquid form. Po took the cup and happily drank from it.

     "Tubby custard!" she said, turning to look straight at the camera. Straight into Jacob's soul. He would've screamed bloody murder if his voice had been under his control. The projection waned for a few precious seconds before going completely out. The entirety of the Tubbytronic Superdome went black. Four toddler-like voices, jittery with blood lusting excitement, entered the darkened room. Jacob was completely incapacitated. Four furry hands gripped each one of his limbs with unflinching ferocity. They were not grips of death, however; that much, at least, was a welcomed surprise. Instead, the Teletubbies – their faces still concealed by the total darkness – picked him up off of the floor and started carrying him toward some unknown locale.

     He tried his best to resist. His body didn't budge. He put his entire mind on self-salvation. Still, this fearsome activity within did nothing to sway the rest of him. Somehow, the Teletubbies knew. One of them dropped his arm. His head crashed onto the ground. The three others let go of their holds in turn. A hand, larger than all the others, wrapped itself around Jacob's manhood. His eyes bulged so much he feared they'd pop right out. A tearing sensation took hold of him. Skin departed from skin. Air went rushing in where it never had before. Slimy tubes and bloodied vessels flopped onto the rest of his pelvis. Blood erupted everywhere. It was the only warmth he had felt in hours.

     He heard a crunching sound. Tinky Winky tried to say something. The other three accosted him for talking while chewing. Blood splattered onto Jacob's face from above. Bits and pieces of skin and meat came sprinkling down like a spring drizzle of his own body. Tinky Winky finished his meal. The Teletubbies took ahold of Jacob's limbs once more. The march continued in utter silence; that was, other than the sporadic shouting of a single word.

     "Sacrifice!"