and a race against the clock
Now I'm just got a mental image of Jack, halfway through recording an episode. Suddenly, his face freezes, his eyes go wide. All other concerns vacate the Wendigos mind, save one.
Its time.
He begins to waddle at max pace, shouting through the building, an incoherent mix of calls for Tammy and prayers uttered in panic. The waddling has elevated his heartrate, which concerns him. He lives in fear of dying the Elvis way, and prays for any other fate. The monkeys paw continues to curl, but Jack is unaware of how expensive this prayer will end up being. Halfway there, he begins attempting to free himself for what is to come - Efforts are made to pin the dress he calls a shirt up and out of the way under the dead arm, but maintaining the pressure is difficult. The live hand awkwardly fumbles to find the waistband of his pants, buried under the rolls. This uncharacteristic bout of movement unbalances the waddle, which goes wider to compensate. His shoulders are bouncing off the hallway walls, slowing him down. The photos hanging in the corridor, of a smaller Jack and a happy Tammy, from a time long ago, echo something greater lost than just mobility.
Against all odds, he manages to free his waistband enough and pull it temporarily out enough that he's confident he can draw it down. Finally barging into the bathroom, he lifts the lid while cursing that Tammy will not tolerate the convenience of him leaving it up. Alas, this final action is too much.
Its time.
Desperately, he attempts to turn while dropping his pants, but its too slow. The rotational waddle requires at least four steps, but no sooner than the first has landed, the valley erupts in a furor. His pants, hindered by only being pulled down on one side by one arm, catch at a jaunty angle, neatly bisecting the acidic beam into an "interior" and "Exterior" disaster zone. A trail is painted, fabric is soiled, and by the time that flesh meets porcelain with a foundation-groaning thud, much has escaped, more than he can conceal from Tammy. Jack groans, and curses internally to himself - He'll have to punish Hope for shitting all over the place. He wants to love that dog, he really does, but this is what she does to him. Another month in the harness, that should be punishment enough. One day she'll learn.
Deep in his heart, Jack knows the true cause of todays problems, but the Wendigo clouds his mind and redirects all blame, for the vessel only needs to worry about two emotions - The hunger, and the pleasure of feeding. All else is secondary, and guilt could lead to introspection. Introspection could lead to recognition of the Wendigo. Recognition could lead to reprisal. And reprisal would have to be countered in kind. The Wendigo mulls it over, its influence tickling the masses of cholesteral clotting the veins and arteries towards the brain.
Perhaps this vessel is already in need of reshaping. Removal of unneeded functions.
The Wendigo hungers, for its host this time. The Monkeys paw finishes curling.