The Sticky Situation

[morphitudinous]

The situation was an entirely uncontrollable and all-encompassing mess.

Not only was the location itself a mess, but so were the individuals swept up in such messiness. Not a single dry, clean, or intact object was in sight. A bright ruby red sludge coated the entire area, so thick that it obscured whatever this location used to be. For now, it was most definitely similar to the inside of an expired raspberry gelatin dessert.

As these stories often go, the beings coming to consciousness in the midst of all this mess would not remember exactly how they had traveled from the Point A of their own lives to the Point B of this disaster zone, but they would be surrounded by slight reminders. Everyone had a mishmash of items that had been on or near their person at the time---had someone been repairing a car?
A tire ringed the poor woman's head, caught unaware by the sudden digestion and regurgitation as much as anyone else.

Just about anything they might need or want could be found in this mess: toys, games, tools, clothes, toiletries, a bathroom...notably, everything except an escape route. For you see, to say that the characters were in raspberry gelatin was altogether inaccurate. Whatever stickiness existed in their trap was not something as light and airy as gelatin, no. It was heavier. Thicker. Longing for a union with some creamy peanut butter.

Reality dawned. There was a name for this type of enclosed, sticky space. It was, rather uncreatively named, a giant jamjar. Do have fun!

Comments

[morphitudinous]

Billy did not like this, he did not like it at all.

His last project before the apparent teleportation had been an attempt to repair a new defensive device. He'd designed its outer metal casing to withstand several of the most common dissolving substances, it was that important, but he hadn't designed it with the possibility of an invasion of raspberry jam.

Naturally, all those circuits and wires were now completely useless. He made a soft huffing noise, eventually stabilizing himself on a sort of flat table that was sticking out of the jam. It was difficult with all the sliding around, but he was soon making a seemingly futile attempt to clean his glasses. Without a clean surface to clean them on, it was going to be a nightmare.

"Who makes jamjars this big? Am I captured by giants, waiting to be spread on their toast?" He couldn't see if anyone was around to answer, so he simply huffed and kept cleaning. Once he could see, he could work out what to do.