OCTOPUS

Every time she said octopus a small black one fell out of her mouth. She kept saying octopus until their twisting bodies covered the floor. I asked her if she felt okay and she said that she felt fine; it was me she was worried about. An octopus crawled onto her shoulder and blinked. I felt her forehead and told her to lie down. I began to sweep a space for her with my hands but she just shook her head and said octopus again. I saw another one crawl up her hair and drip black ink onto her sweatshirt. I asked if she knew where we were and she said that she did, that we were in a basement, beneath the stairs, and at a party. I said okay but that I didn't remember coming to any kind of a party or even being invited for that matter. She looked down then touched her face and said octopus to her feet. I ignored an octopus wrapping around her arm. I told her that besides, she had interrupted me and that had been rude. I had been talking about the different kinds of chocolate that I liked and I had been calling them little duddies, and it had all been dreadfully hilarious. I wanted to continue our conversation on little duddies but she was not looking at me. She was looking back at the people beneath the stairs. The people beneath the stairs were sitting in a half moon around candles and smoking from long wooden pipes. She turned to me and asked why didn't we go back and sit down with them. We could talk about the duddies there. I told her maybe we would be safer here probably. She took my arm to her and asked if I remembered. I got a little more worried and felt her head again. The secret word, she said, could I remember it. I looked at the people beneath the stairs. I watched them cough smoke into the light. She held my sight and whispered octopus again. I watched a baby one squirm out of her mouth. The secret word. She kept holding my sight and she kept repeating it. She kept repeating it and I kept watching her mouth and her mouth kept making sounds but I could not understand.