In a future where cinema has usurped reality and there's nothing special about effects, an aging movie star takes on the role of a lifetime, growing the flesh of an otherworldly kaiju onto his body. Psychosis ensues.
A whale crashes on the outskirts of a forest that defines the northwestern contours of Strychnine Heights. It produces a minor earthquake on impact. Tons and tons of clotted leviathan gore erupt from incalculable orifices as the whale rolls across the grass, carving a ravine in its wake. The paddle fins twitch and flap like livewires. The dorsal fin vacillates, erect one moment, flaccid the next, hammering the earth with the force of ten thousand sledgehammers. A great gray tongue reaches out of warped and ruined jaws. Carnage gushes from the spout-hole and anus and forms rivulets in the grass that merge into a single, raging watercourse. The beast moans like a cosmic poltergeist as its heart bursts. Then it falls onto its belly, sounds the final mantras of its death throes, and comes to a perfect rest, with fumes hissing from tears and gashes in its demolished purple hide. Moments later, the dorsal fin curls into a fist.