A Little More Francine.

A screeching scrape of sound snapped their semblance of sleep with the abruptness of a car crash. Francine looked up to see the ceiling dematerializing at an agonizingly slow pace, a sightless hole creeping its way from the center towards the walls. “Alright nah, Pup. I ain’t never got past this part, so I’ll tell ya a little bit bout m’self, I think ya’ve earned it. I’ve been born and born and born ag’in for as long as I can remember, and I remember back befo’ dinosaurs. I git born, but not like anyone else gits born. Every time I die, whether it’s in this room or somewhere else, I wake up ag’in under the dirt, always in a dif’rent place, always in a dif’rent body. I wake up knowin’ that I got ta bring one a your kind to this room. I don’t know why, but I do know that if I don’ at least try, something very bad will happen to reality. I ain’t gotta inklin’ as to what, ‘xactly. Jus’ know it. ‘Nother thing on the list of things I jus’ know, I s’pose. There are aroun’ two thousan’ ways to git to this room, an’ I’ve used ‘em all. Never got m’self past this room, though. So this better work this time.”