"What is that even supposed to mean?" Nick asked, bewildered by the new gesture that was neither a shake nor a nod. He frowned.
"Not quite?" He suggested.
The tentacle hesitated.
"Not yet?" It didn't fit the situation, but Nick was just trying his luck. As expected, the tentacle shook its tip.
"...Kind of?" He asked.
The tentacle hesitated again before nodding. That would work.
"So, you're 'kind of' responsible for me and my house being in this forest?" he asked to confirm.
The tentacle nodded while sinking closer to the floor like a drooping flower that had received neither water nor sunlight for several days. Nick almost felt bad for it just by looking at it. It was clear it was sorry or something.
Nick couldn't tell the nuance of the feeling behind the tentacle's movement, but it was clearly apologetic.
"So, it's your fault but not your fault..." Nick thought out loud while leaning back and looking at the ceiling.
"When is something your fault when it isn't your fault?" He asked himself.
The tentacle came to his aid. It stretched even further out from the basement and snaked across the living room floor toward the pile of DVDs under the TV. It tapped a case repeatedly.
With a curious and confused frown, Nick slowly got up and looked at it.
It was a crime drama about a witness to a gang shooting. Nick didn't remember all the details, but he remembered one of the main characters dying to protect the witness. It was the likable main character, too. They weren't the only one who died, either.
It was a movie where the wrong person being in the wrong place at the wrong time led to many meaningless deaths.
Nick glanced at the tentacle hovering by his side.
"Okay, so it's your fault because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time or something? You didn't directly move my house?"
The tentacle looked like it wanted to say something before eventually nodding, confirming what Nick said.
"So, you did not move me and my house?" He asked again to confirm. The tentacle nodded.
"Good to know." Nick held up and pointed at the movie. "But how the fuck do you know what this movie is about? Do you have powers that let you know things? Are you, like, omniscient?" He asked, maybe a little more excited than he should have been.
The tentacle 'looked' at Nick before shaking its tip. Nick dismissed it immediately, but it looked like the tentacle was judging him or shaking its tip in disappointment rather than just answering his question.
The tentacle slowly moved to Nick's chest. Seeing Nick not react, shy away, or stop it, the tentacle continued. It put its soft and fleshy tip against Nick's chest and gently pushed him back into the sofa.
The tentacle turned Nick's head toward the TV before slithering back to the basement door and then positioned itself so that only its tip was visible like it was peeking out from behind the door.
It was reenacting how it knew what the movie was about.
It had watched it with Nick when he was watching it.
Nick's eyes slowly widened in realization and horror.
"You..." He began saying but was unable to find the words to continue that train of thought.
"I don't even remember the last time I watched this! How long have you been living in my house?!" He asked loudly.
"How?! How have you been hiding down there?!"
Nick's washing machine, dryer, most of his tools, and a bunch of stuff were down there. He had been down in his basement just the day before he fell asleep and woke up in a forest. He had been down there innumerable times since he watched the movie.
How had he not noticed the tentacle monster before?!
The tentacle's tip awkwardly scratched another part of the tentacle. It didn't know how to explain that since it didn't know how to talk.
Nick glared at the tentacle for several seconds. He had been startled and with the emotions from being in the middle of nowhere, he had ended up taking it out on the tentacle.
He sighed and slumped back into the sofa.
"So, how come you can't talk?" Nick asked.
The tentacle pointed all over itself.
"No mouth?"
The tentacle nodded.
"You can hear without ears, and you can see without eyes, but you can't talk without a mouth. Alright."
The tentacle looked offended and stabbed Nick's shoulder several times. Funnily enough, Nick didn't mind it.
But the soft fleshy feeling of the tentacle reminded him of something.
"Do you like sausage?" He asked the tentacle. He hadn't eaten yet.
The tentacle nodded. It watched him curiously as he got up and started frying several sausages.
Nick wasn't sure where he was, how he had gotten there, or how he was going to get home. But he had food, water, and a roof over his head. There was no need to stress. He even had someone to talk to.
He would need to ration his food since he wasn't sure if he could find anything edible outside, but he had a lot stacked up. His fridge was full. The freezer in the kitchen was full. The freezer in the basement... Nick didn't think about it. His cupboard and cabinets were full of food that would last long.
He didn't have to worry for at least several weeks.
It could definitely be worse.
He had even been attacked by the local wildlife once already.
The only thing that could destabilize him now, despite everything that had happened, was if a bear or something attacked him.
The smell of fried sausage spread in the kitchen and Nick's house—the house that had an open front door. The smell did not stay in the house.
Nick focused on the sausage, trying to forget about reality. The tentacle hovered by his side, also entranced by the sausage. Nick could almost imagine the drool despite it not having a mouth.
But suddenly, Nick felt something fuzzy brush against his leg. At first, he brushed it off, but then he got a bad feeling in his stomach and a lump in his throat. He gulped and slowly glanced down.
A bear cub was sitting by his feet and looking up at him with beady eyes.