A loud buzzer sounded inside.  The door, groaning on its hinges, opened at a snail’s pace.  Shades of a D grade horror film.  I hate horror films.    

     A green cloud billowed out of the opening.  The foul stench made me gag.  I thought nothing could be worse than Gavin’s farts—I was wrong.

     Two steps in found me hopelessly tangled in a spider’s web of sticky, red tape.  My muse wasn’t kidding.  All I needed now was to have some giant, horror of a spider skulking above me.  Don’t look.  You won’t be happy if you look.  Beads of nervous sweat rolled down my back.

     I used my trusty little pocket knife to hack through the gluey strands.  Like a jungle explorer, I slashed my way forward.  Eight struggling steps brought me to a tall counter, the top of which was even with my forehead.  I had to back up two steps to see over it.  I wished I hadn’t. 

     “Fee Fi Fo Fum.  I smell a human who must be dumb.”  The giant glared at me.

     My first attempt to answer came out as a mouse squeak.  I cleared my throat and answered again.  “Not dumb, determined.  I lost my concentration and I need to find it.”

     “Can you describe it?”