While Jim had been lying steeped in happy moments from his past, the sin extractor he lay upon had been hissing and shaking. Seven types of monster were being extracted from his soul, their essence spilling out on to the museum floor, where they began to slither and take form. One was cactus-like; another was red and horned. There was a fluffy purple one, a chubby pink one, a slippery blue one, a yellow feathered one, and a trumpet-faced orange one. Each new monster bore a resemblance to Nelson’s monsters but for three significant differences: they grew much bigger, each one reaching approximately five feet in height; their colours were duller and more dreary; and lastly, they were much, much, much uglier. They had lumps and bumps and warts and tufts of hair and lopsided faces with eyes that looked in different directions. Some were extremely skinny, some bloated as if about to pop, and some looked like they were made of melting wax.
The terrible thing was that this was the eighth time Jim had lain on the sin extractor. This meant there were now eight of each type of monster. Fifty-six monsters in total. With each new extraction, their ugliness had grown more profound and sickening.
None of them said a word. They simply stood in the darkness around their maker, breathing and panting and watching with wide eyes as Jim lay smiling on the sin extractor.
They could feel the happiness he was experiencing and they liked it. They wanted to keep this feeling as much as he did, so when Jim fell to the floor feeling cold and sick, they felt it too, and eight trumpet-nosed monsters ran forward to pick him up.
‘Honk! Honk! Honk!’ they honked in raspy unison.
Jim looked up, his face covered in sweat, to see the monsters leaning down to help him.
‘Once more,’ whispered Jim, and the monsters obliged by lifting Jim off the floor and laying him back on the extractor.