The alarm clock goes off in the bedroom of a small, suburban apartment.  It’s 7:00 a.m.  Brendan Garrett, the apartment’s tenant, should be rising from bed and preparing for work.  Instead, Mr. Garrett lies beneath the covers – his bloodshot eyes staring at the ceiling spackling.  His orange tabby cat, Peyj, is pawing feverishly at the bathroom door.  The alarm sounds once more, but is quickly silenced by Garrett’s pale hand upon the snooze button.

“I think I’ll just stay home today,” states a sweating Garrett, “I think, maybe–.” Garrett’s voice is cut short by an agonizing pain deep within his abdomen.

It wasn’t always like this.  Just three days earlier, Brendan Garrett was a happy, normal, 27 year-old man.  His job at the local paper distribution company, PulpCorp, was beginning to take off.  Plus, the new girl in accounting was a “total boner factory”.

“Yeah, man, I’m gonna’ nail that redhead, Kathy,” Garrett told Hardcasual on Friday, “I just need to lose a few pounds.  Luckily, my buddy works at the health food store and he hooked me up with these detox pills.  This should totally clean my system out.”

After a brief stop for half-off appetizers at Mr. Jumbo’s Wingageddon – a local sports bar – Garrett made his way to the Ikea overload he calls an apartment.  The cat’s food bowl was full and the answering machine only contained the bothersome ramblings of a mother who didn’t understand the potential of letter-sized ream sales.  Garrett threw the plastic bag containing the bowel purging tablets on the coffee table; shaking his head while slamming the machine’s delete button again and again.

A rerun cop show played silently on Garrett’s rear-projection television as he sat on his white faux-leather couch, sliding the strange looking box from the bag.  The cover was adorned with bright, vibrant colors and a foreign language.  Garrett turned the box over in his hands before removing the instructions.

“This stuff is from Japan,” he told us, “so it’s got to be good.  I mean, just look at how skinny and shit all those Japanese people are.  I bet they eat these things like M&M’s…like fuckin’ Japanese M&M’s.”

Garrett tilted his head back, tossed one of the large multi-colored pills in his mouth, and quickly washed it down with a healthy amount of Acai Berry VitaWater.  “I’m glad I started this on a Friday,” he said, “I bet I’ll be shitting my brains out all weekend.” That night — stumbling back to his bed that came delivered in a box — Garrett didn’t seem to notice the strange glow or eerie Eastern music coming from the detox carton.

It was 3:30 a.m. when Brendan Garrett was awoken by the distinct feeling that his rectum was about to explode.  “Man, I guess that stuff has started working,”  Garrett thought as he ran to the bathroom.  He sat upon the toilet; bracing himself for the inevitable deluge brought upon by the mysterious, detoxifying pill.  All at once came a great pressure, followed by sixteen solid minutes of the loudest fecal downpour ever recorded.  Garrett breathed a sigh of relief.

Like many weirdos, Garrett had seen the various “colon cleansing” pictures on Google.  He knew the next step was to grab a piece of rolled-up newspaper, turn on his camera, and snap a picture of the horrific aftermath in his toilet.  Returning with the newspaper, Garrett reached into the toilet bowl and emerged with his prize.  However, what he discovered would change his life forever.

Draped over the wet sports pages hung a creature.  It was multicolored; like a rainbow.  Two large, bulbous, pink knobs adorned the ends.  The beast’s face smiled up at Garrett as it began to writhe and stretch its body to great lengths.  Garrett screamed and threw the paper down.  He ran, slammed the bathroom door behind him, and dove under the covers of his cheap, Swedish bed.

It’s Monday now; 10:30 a.m.  The alarm clock sounds again, but it’s too late for work now.  “It’s too late for anything,” thinks Garrett.

Kathy, the girl from accounting, rings the doorbell just in time to hear a loud bang.

She enters Garrett’s apartment and begins to scream as she reads the word written in blood above the bed:

“GIRL”

Hardcasual attempted to locate the health food store, but there was nothing there except for an empty lot with an old, crazy Native American guy sitting in it.  He started shaking a stick at us and laughing…fuck that guy.

Further reporting by Matt Clark.