"Blasphemy!" he screamed, "Blasphemy, you dirty commie, witch, heathen.. thing!"

It was a lump, and it was under the rug.

"Blasphemy!" he repeated, "and I will... I'm gonna... knock the blasphemes right out of you! With... with a hammer!"

He grabbed a hammer.

The lump in the rug sat in the same position, appearing to turn in place every so often.

He pulled the hammer up into the air, gravity protesting against the move. It was kind of a big hammer. Not like a sledgehammer, and not like a normal, nail-pounding hammer... like a humongous warhammer, made out of stone. Like really, really, hard, and heavy stone.

The weapon hung in the air for a moment, and when he saw that this lump under the rug did not seem to resent the prospect of being hit with it, he let it fall on top of the lump.

The hammer snapped along the handle and the lump disappeared.

And that was all that he needed. He didn't care about the hammer, he didn't care about the mystery of the lump. He went back to his day.

---

Two weeks passed and it happened again. A lump appeared under the rug. He'd noticed it while preparing for his midmorning stroll around his house. He'd stepped into the room and tripped over it.

"More blaspheming lumps!" he yelled, "I'll show you!"

He searched around the room for his warhammer before realizing he'd thrown it away, as it was now useless.

What else could he use?

Well, he had an old, medieval broadsword mounted onto his wall, next to the head of a caribou.

He hadn't killed the caribou. That had been his friend Chet. Chet was the one who kept giving him old, obsolete weapons to use for protection, no matter how many times he told him to stop. He didn't want them though. It's not like he would ever use them. Except, perhaps, the harpoon, if a rogue whale from the nearby sea went on a rampage in his neighborhood.

He glanced over the mace, the battleaxe, and the trebuchet. No none of those...

"Oh look!" he exclaimed, "A chair! I think I will sit there until I figure out what to try and hurt this lump under the rug with!"

So he did.

He sat and thought until his mind began to gush out of his eye sockets and his skull began to implode. Figuratively speaking.

"The chair!" he yelled suddenly. "Hey lump, be prepared to meet my friend chair as he makes his way to a magical land called your.... lump..ness."

He swept the chair up off the ground and he held it above his head, preparing to strike down the lump from its terrifying position. Under the rug. He held it there for a dramatic effect for a long, intense moment. Enough time for someone to, like, sketch him or something.

Finally, he brought the chair down on the lump with all his might.

"OW! FLIP!" the lump screamed, "What the hell was that for?!"

"You talk?" the man asked.

"Yes I freaking talk, I'm a merperson!"

"Wait, what?"

"Can't you tell? I thought humans had the ability to see in the dark."

"It's not dark though, you're just under a rug! What are you doing there anyway?" the man asked.

"There's a secret opening in your floor that lets us merpeople come up for air sporadically without upsetting all those fishermen down at the port... but wait, so this isn't all there is to your world?"

"No, you're just under my rug. I already said that."

"If you would be so kind as to remove the aforementioned rug from over my head, it would be very kind," the lump said.

"What's in it for me?"

"I'll set you up with a hot mermaid."

"Deal!"

The man grabbed the rug and pulled it up, revealing the wood floor below, and there, right where the lump had been, was the head of a merman.

"Holy snappenheimer!" the human man exclaimed, "You really are a merman aren't you?"

"Well..." the lump-guy said, "No."

"What? What are you then? No normal human could possibly find a hole in my floor leading to the ocean!"

"Actually," the guy in the hole said, "Your first instincts were right."

His features began to morph, become twisted until all that remained was an angry red face with horns. "I'm a demon."

And with that there was a sudden musical crescendo and the demon began to grow to exorbitant proportions until the building began to collapse where he was too big to fit, and it began to rain fire from the skies, and all the fish in the ocean got up and walked away from this whole mess.

"You!" the demon's voice boomed, "Nameless man... you set me free, you may now have anything you want in this world."

The man knew, of course, not to trust this beast. He was a demon, and the man was no heathen.

"I want my friend Chet here!" the man announced.

"It shall be done," the satanic being announced and with a flash of light, Chet appeared next to the man, looking disoriented. "Anything else?" the demon asked.

"I want his store here too!" the man said.

The demon nodded once and suddenly Chet and the man were standing inside the Medieval Armament that served as Chet's place of employment. Or, rather, it was outside of them.

"What. The. Hell." Chet yelled. "WTF."

From outside they heard the sound of missiles causing absolutely no harm to the demon. Military jets scrambled above them, trying to take down the creature that was raining destruction down on the Earth.

"See! I was right!" the man said, "Normal weapons don't work on him! We need some sort of special demon-killer!" He looked at Chet, "Which is where you come in."

Chet blinked. "Well, what do you have in mind?"

"Um, a wooden stake maybe?"

"That's vampires not demons."

"Silver bullets?"

"Werewolves."

The man thought for a moment. He was never very good with weaponry. "...you know those robots in Transformers--" he started.

"No." Chet interrupted, "I don't have those."

"Well--"

"And those are called Transformers."

"Well..."

"And they're electro-organic beings, not robots."

"They're cars that turn into robots."

"No--"

"YES THEY ARE, SHUT UP."

It was silent for a long moment until they heard the demon growl outside and kill some innocent civilians.

"Right! Weapons!" the man said, "Any ideas?"

"I have a spear made out of a crucifix.." Chet responded, "Seems like it should work, right?"

But before they could use it, a sudden quake shook the Earth and a sound of pure hatred and fury rand out for all to hear.

Satan had woken up from his slumber.

And with that a rift opened up in the sky and everyone died.