Get me out of this madhouse

This may very well be my last dispatch for some time, as I'm afraid the situation around here has taken a disturbing turn from the weird to the downright sinister. I shall endeavor to continue filing regular updates, but things have now deteriorated to the point that I may need to go underground at any moment. I'll report the facts as best I understand them...

This much I know for sure: the Man is behind everything. It is all his doing. At this point, the bizarre recent behavior of Fabio and the Rodent are, at best, tertiary concerns — most likely corollary effects of the general madness that has swept this house.

The Woman continues to swell. Despite her obvious discomfort and ludicrous proportionment, the Man seems heartily pleased with this. He caresses her abdominal rotunda and speaks into it in a creepy singsong intonation. I do not understand what manner of experiment the Man is performing on the Woman, but it clearly grows nearer and nearer to some catastrophic culmination.

Of course, I have known of the Man's strange laboratorial tendancies for some time. For many years, I have witnessed his strange forays into experimental chemistry — the vials and beakers and test tubes; the bottles of caustic, multi-hued chemicals that he would mix and shake, pour and consume. On several occasions he has hosted symposia at which the illuminati gathered here in the fortress to sample his potions — and then teetered off in a glassy-eyed haze, staggering back into the world under the influence of his strange “ginatonic” trance.

But this new brand of dark science the Man now practices is something quite different. Most notably, he has been obsessively collecting — and literally filling the fortress with — all manner of strange and mysterious equipment. For weeks now, new apparatus have been arriving on a daily basis — huge, unwieldy crates containing massive mechanical horrors that the Man noisily assembles with a feverish, almost violent passion. I list here but a few of the more disturbing contraptions:

1. A gigantic black cage, an imposing monolith of a prison whose dimensions could accommodate any number of horrors — but what? Possibly even more unsettling is the fact that this cage has padded walls.
   


2. A fiendish experimental device consisting of a stress-chair into which the subject is obviously strapped via a web of unbreakable restraints. This chair is then mounted to a rigid A-frame upon a mechanical pendulum that swings maddeningly back and forth in perpetuity while playing a sequence of delirium-inducing chimes over and over again. I do not know what speeds this centrifugal chair is capable of achieving, but one imagines that at maximum power it might squash, if not liquify, its unfortunate subject.
   


3. A large, rectangular “containment pen” into which a subject may be placed for extended observation. Unlike the big black cage, this struture has meshy translucent walls which allow any number of observers to simultaneously cast their sinister stares upon the contained entity. The Man has already tested this holding cell by placing the Rodent in it — and I have rarely seen that poor hound more horrified.
   


4. A tall, plastic chair into which the subject again may be strapped and tightly secured, and then force-fed any manner of experimental pastes and potions and goos. A detachable panel housing a number of surreal spinning and beeping gadgets suggests that this chair may also be used for twisted psychological experiments.

Put together, these and many other new devices have effectively altered my fortress from a place of comfort and refuge into a sinister dungeon of horrors. And there is still more to report:

The man is collecting biological samples. Whenever Fabio (lazy moron that he is) poops in the house, the Man quickly collects the offal and whisks it off to some unseen facility. Also, I have witnessed the Man, when taking the Rodent on one of his tethered excursions, actually collecting fresh Rodent dung in a small black lab-pouch and sealing it like so much forensic evidence.

Needless to say, I continue to excrete in my undisclosed location. In fact, I've started taking the precautionary measures of varying my timetable and burying my leavings a little deeper than normal. One cannot be too careful.

Where the Man takes these specimens remains a mystery, but I do know there is more going on here than what I see before me. The Woman's belly, the lab equipment, the bio-samples... all of this is just the loose end of a very twisted ball of twine. There is a grander experiment, shrouded in mystery, going on behind closed doors. And I know, if nothing else, the codename of this secret installation:

The Man calls it Bay B. I don't know what happened to Bay A, or how many more hidden labs the Man has set up, but clearly Bay B is the one housing his main project. And judging by the look in his eyes and the fevered pitch his “preparations” are taking, the Bay B Experiment must be nearing completion.

Accordingly, I have started scouting the neighborhood for auxiliary command centers and defensible positions on which to bivouac, if necessary. I am prepared to put some serious distance between myself and this place if and when it comes to it. You won't find this Shmool stuffed in a jar or strapped to a gurney or sealed in a padded cell. The Laws of Nature may be mutable around here, but the Law of the Jungle remains resolute, and when the mad scientist unleashes his monstrosity upon the world, I shall take my chances with the wilderness...