(An extempore short story written with the words "soft", "blue", "sharp", "moist", "modern", "wet" and "blob" in it. Part of a group session with Rob van Kranenburg. Retouched a bit, later.)
The operation theatre was blue-tiled, and very modern. The overhead light gleamed unobtrusively, and the metal table reflected back the rays in a steady sheen. The doors suddenly banged open as the orderlies wheeled in a stretcher. The doctor followed them, his surgical mask hiding his apprehension from the others. For this was not a human being he was going to operate upon; it was one of the suspected aliens that were discovered in the wreckage the men in black had found yesterday.
The orderlies heaved the body on the table. It was anthropoid in shape, but the head was big with big black eyes. The skin was cream-coloured and moist, sending out whitepoints against the light.
"Ready when you are, doctor!" said the nurse, who had come in after the young medical man. Her voice was sharp and nervous. "Yes, we start now," was his reply in an equally edgy voice as he picked up a scalpel and started making an incision into the soft mid-section of the creature in front of him. A greenish liquid spurted out, making his hand wet and splattering his chest. With shaking hands, he completed the incision and, with help from the nurse, pulled back the skin from the body. And then he froze. Something was throbbing inside.
He bent down to have a closer look. Something opened up inside the body, near the area one might call the chest if it were a human being. A slimy grey blob of indeterminate composition flung itself from the chest-cavity and stuck itself to his face. He fell back, unable to scream as the slime gagged his mouth, soaking in through the mask. Then all went dark.
The next thing he realised was the nurse and the orderlies shaking him anxiously. He blinked open his eyes. "Are you alright, doctor?" asked the nurse.
"Doctor? What doctor?" he smiled back at them.
"I am Cthulhu."
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