The Drain

I have a drain where my brain ought to be. Everything that gets into my head  runs straight down into my stomach, where it gets churned into mulch. The drain is a rickety thing. When I shake my head I can hear the drain rattling around in my skull. If I sleep on my side I can feel it fluttering up against my ear whenever I snore.

The drain puts me in a bit of pickle, particularly as I have urgent work to do, work that requires some careful thought.

The problem is this: I built a duck, and now I need to create some sort of pond in a hurry or I fear the duck will die. I've been keeping it in the kitchen sink for the time being, as I already have a redheaded mermaid living in my bathtub and she's threatened to eat the duck if it tries to encroach on her space.

The mermaid's been living in the tub for almost a month  now, after escaping from a shampoo bottle that I dropped while taking a shower. I guess I'd have to describe the mermaid as malevolent, or at the very least ill tempered and ornery as all get out. It's possible, I've decided, that she has a bit of dragon or sea serpent in her, based on her generally aggressive manner and the amount of time she spends thrashing around in there and roaring imprecations. She creates so much steam  that some days it feels like I'm living in the clouds, and I've grown so afraid of her that I've taken to pissing in the sink down in the laundry room.

I've thought about killing the mermaid somehow, but every time the idea starts to take shape in my head it gets gurgled straight away down the drain.