Barry was quietly and single-mindedly strolling down the street after a moderate drink with some buddies at the local pub. When he reached the park area that was about 100 metres from his humble home, he came across a small pebble on the pavement. The stone glistened a warm purple colour, then gently morphed into orange, then purple again. It repeated the pattern again and again, then Barry knelt down and picked up the pebble. His thick brown hair swooped down over his eyes as he examined the rock carefully.
He stood and slipped the stone into his jeans pocket. He continued on towards his home as he wanted to be happily indoors and safe by 1 in the morning.
Barry slumped down onto his bed and took the pebble out of his trouser pocket. He took another look at it, then set it upon his dresser, still morphing colours. He stripped down to his boxer shorts, ready to leap into bed and slumber until morning. But as he walked back into the room in just his underwear, the stone began to rattle and shake on his dresser.
He walked closer to the stone, a puzzled frown on his face. When he was roughly thirty centimetres away from the stone, it exploded like a hollow shell and unleashed a mass of writhing purple tentacles. No two tentacles were the same as they crawled up and along the walls of his roomy bedroom. One had soft bristles along it, another had tiny suckers along the underside of it (each sucker about a centimetre or two in diameter), and another had a thick end with a long slit down the middle of the end.
