I struggled to form flesh strands to stop the makeshift menace, but they were too thin now, and the armed vacuum robot sliced right through them. It arrived under me and angrily whirled in one spot.
The Biomatrix kitten shimmered on top of it, as if taunting the vacuum's futile attempts to destroy us.
It was a stalemate. I was stretched as thin as I could go and my body didn’t have enough lipids to convert into the spooky flesh-web. G-Darned apocalyptic lifestyle.
“y u nOt mOrE FaT?”
complained the Biomewtrix, pawing at my head.
“Y u nOt eAtInG MoAr prrrrRoTeIN?”
I regretted not eating more of that nutritious Spider-shaped pineapple.
We needed more biomass and more strength to defeat the murderous cottage.
I felt around with tendrils of Biomatrix and rediscovered the bones on the floor.
“yEsS, tHeSe wIlL Do nIcElY,”
purred the Biomatrix in my brain. I gave it permission to feed.
It devoured the skulls and grew more tendrils. The new strands encountered even more bones in other rooms. Jeez, how many people had this house murdered?
“pOsItIvE: tHiS NeCrOpOLIs iS Of gReAt cOnVeNiEnCe tO Us, ChArLeS,”
stated the virus in my head. It sounded much happier and awake now.
The flesh-strands pounced at La Macabre’s colossal assembly of skeletons.
“NOOOOO! ANYTHING BUT THIS! DON’T EAT MY COLLECTION!”
the cottage wailed.
“Om nom nom,”
the Biomatrix crunched, heartily, bolstered by calcium and little tidbits of chondroitin.
Hundreds of skeletons stashed away in La Macabre closets and rooms melted into me as the Biomatrix assimilated them.
It eagerly copyrighted the memories and dreams of the dead Good Director duplicates.
Myriads of past-lives flashed by in my brain, starting at the moment of their arrival on the Moon and ending at their deaths from La Macabre’s legs and minions. I felt pity for them, even though they were responsible for most of my misery on planet Earth.
As the Biomatrix expanded anew, it identified further sources of energy. The house’s batteries and boilers were added to the arsenal, and a new heart was built inside me to control and channel all of this new energy. I was no longer trapped in human form.
I was spreading out in all directions, with Biomatrix tendrils for muscle, hundreds of bright, flowering nodes for eyes, and, flowing through them, all the consolidated power the Murder Cottage could provide. And such legs I had! Gigantic, slim legs that stretched way down to the ground. The floor tilted and the cottage staggered drunkenly as I tried to move my numerous new joints.
“MY BEAUTIFUL LEGS! YOU’RE GUNKING UP MY LEGS! GET OUT OF THERE, YOU FILTHY LEG HIJACKER!”
the cottage wailed.
“I am the cottage now! You’re a ghost!”
“AHHHH!! HALP ME, LUNAR OVERMIND!”
La Macabre cried in panic, as I forced the cottage into motion.
The optic nodes on my roof saw Captain standing on the porch of the walking church nearby, waving merrily at me.
“ONWARDS, HOUSE-SNIPPÉ-MON! WE HAVE TO STOP ZEE LUNARIOUS VILLAIN, RESCUE PRINCESS ANGIE AND SAVE ZEE UNIVERSE!”