Listen to me. Listen to me. We don’t have much time. He’s coming and we can’t stop him, but we can do our best to survive.
You’re walking past the T. Coop fountain; you hear some rustling faintly in the distance. Don’t panic. It could be your imagination, or leaves falling from trees. It could be Pastides, stapling masks to students’ faces in Russell House. Or… it could be the Toothpaste Man. It is always better to play it safe when it comes with Ol’ Toothpastie. Remember, don’t corner yourself. You speed up your walk and cut right, towards your car in Bull Street Garage.
Stepping into the garage, glass shatters in the distance. You look around and see nothing. Cautiously walking towards your car, you hear the revving of an engine—seemingly speeding up. Suddenly, a lowered Civic with tinted windows swings around the corner. The windows are dark, but a faint, white, tube-ish outline appears behind the wheel. The realization strikes that this car is coming straight at you.
Don’t just stand there! Move!
You somersault right, and the car swerves left. It crashes into a Bro-Runner with a Pike decal. The door swings open and the Toothpaste Man slinks out, stunned. You stand in awe at his sleek, plastic torso. Two toothbrush legs protrude from his body. They’re bamboo; he’s sustainable. Between his bloodstained, bamboo legs, lies his toothpaste cap. You are puzzled, terrified. He’s grabbing for his neck with his toothbrush arms—he has whiplash. This is your time to escape.
You run into the Honors dorm and call for help, but everyone is pent up in a study room, studying. You run up the stairs, thinking that his toothbrush legs won’t be able to handle them. You are naïve. You lock yourself in the first bathroom you find. You idiot. Never corner yourself.
Squirt. Squirt. Squirt.
He found you. The lock wiggles for a few moments before viscous, white liquid begins to seep through the locking mechanism. The door creeps open. He slowly walks towards you, his cap is in his hand, and toothpaste oozing from him. Your body freezes up in sheer horror. As he approaches, he stands over you, aiming his toothpaste hole at your face. His head starts to curl over, and you realize what’s about to happen. But, in a moment of quick thinking, you pull yourself together, grab the cap from his hand, and violently screw it back onto him.
You screwed it on sideways; he falls back, writhing in pain. He breathes his last minty breath and you watch the life leave his body. You have defeated the Toothpaste Man.