Ad Symbol Nightmare

I gave her a cup of coffee, she looked like she needed it.

"It was horrible." She told us. She sat in the chair, 5'4, thin, her hair a mess, clothing torn. I could see her left breast threatening to pop out of what was left of her blouse. Her pink lips pale, her skin taught from her ordeal. She drank the cup of coffee quickly as if it were a matter of life or death.

"Tell us the whole thing," I urged her.

She put the empty coffee cup on the desk, her gray bloodshot eyes focused on me.

"Maybe it's because Janie's house was built over an old Indian burial ground. Or it could be because we stole that statue of Azathoth from the Arkham Institute of Cult studies. It was a prank for Home week," she said in an apologetic manner.

I looked at her with a sympathetic manner so she would continue.

"We were just having a party. Just a nice sleep over party."

She sobbed before continuing.

"We were laughing and joking around as Janie decided to make us all some Pillsbury Cinnamon rolls. No sooner did she pop open the cinnamon roll canister then it started. Suddenly the Pillsbury dough boy appeared. Not the little version, but a 6 foot tall larger then life white dough boy. He had blue eyes, that hat he always wears in the commercials and he laughed that stupid laugh of his."

"Janie, looks like you want some cooking." He said grabbing Janie.

Janie screamed as he ripped her clothing off. Her breasts bounced as he looked at her hungrily.

"Umm umm good." He felt her breasts, pinching one of her nipples. "Tender," he said in glee.

He put her on a baking tray. Suddenly she stopped screaming as he waved his hand over her. Sparks flew from his hand. She smiled, relaxing, she stopped struggling.

"Now Janie, you'll learn that nothin says lovin like something from the oven," he tittered.

In horror we watched, stunned, disbelieving as he sprinkled her with sugar and cinnamon, then put HER in the oven.

Susan reacted first. Like an amazon heroine coming to the rescue of Janie, she grabbed a butter knife and screaming she went after Pop An Fresh. She jumped on Pop An Fresh, stabbing down with the knife. The knife went in his soft doughy body with a squish sound and disappeared. Susan's hand followed, disappearing into the soft dough body. In horror we watched as she helplessly struggled against gravity...sinking into the doughy body.

It was over quickly, we thought. Then we saw her bodies outline inside him struggling to get out. I still remember her hand imprint from inside his stomach. I could make out the vague outline of her face. I heard her screams.

"Tee Hee" Pop N Fresh laughed as if poked in the stomach, like on those commercials. "Susan is a tummy tickler inside and ummmm ummm good."

Tina screamed and ran, her long blonde hair streamed back as she almost made it out the door. In the doorway stood a 6 and a half foot tall peanut. I mean a real peanut, shell and all, but with legs, arms, eyes, a mouth. It grabbed Tina as she tried to make it out the door and swallowed her head first. She screamed as she went down the giant Mr. Peanut's mouth. I ran to one side of the room, standing there silent in hope the two giant corporate icons come to life, would ignore me.

They headed to the kitchen where the aroma of cinnamon wafted from. I remembered poor Janie in the oven...and oh my God she must still be alive. There were no more struggles from within the soft dough body of Pop N Fresh and no screams from inside Mr. Peanut. Hopefully for Susan and Tina the horror was over. I stood still, paralyzed by fear as the two took out poor Janie. She was alive, aware, coated with sticky cinnamon and sugar.

To my amazement she sat up and smiled, opening her arms to the two monstrosities. She OFFERED herself to them. They sat her on the table and ate her. Ate her alive, yet not once did she cry out or struggle. As the two horrible creatures devoured poor Janie, I found my courage to jump out the window. Glass broke, I was cut but found myself running, running till a car picked me up and brought me here.

She looked at me, her cuts had been bandaged, but she shivered.

"Your safe now," I told her. My deputies had found no signs of the other girls. Their cars, their purses were at the house and the window was broken as she said it was. We found no larger then life living Pop N Fresh or Mr. Peanut. It was the therapist's belief that something horrible had happened in that house though. Something so horrible that this woman couldn't handle the truth. A psychopath, a mass suicide? Who could say?

"It's going to be fine now Laura," I told her. She shivered, her eyes meeting mine with fear, wanting to believe but unable to do so.

I helped her up to take her home. I thought her memory of what REALLY happened would eventually return. It was then that the door to the office blew open with a huge force of wind. She screamed a horrible scream I shall never forget.

To this day they tell me that we must have been knocked out by the people that took her away. That we didn't see what we saw. There in the doorway stood a tall muscular man in an all white outfit. He had blue eyes and a shiny bald head. Small white tornadoes blew into the room. They blew my deputies and myself away from her. She screamed and screamed as we could do nothing but watch.

It was Mr. Clean, I remember him from the commercials of my youth. He grabbed her laughing.

"Stronger then dirt," he said.

In a flash of white wind and tornadoes, they disappeared.

To those at Miskatonic advocating University courses on Television, I have this to say. Beware Television, it's one of the ways THEY come into our world.