"One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that in his bed he had been changed into a monstrous yellow sponge. He lay on his soft, squishy back and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his flat, porous abdomen divided up into a neat shirt and slacks combo. From this height the blanket, just about ready to slide off completely, could hardly stay in place. His two legs, pitifully thin in comparison to the rest of his rectangular form, dangled helplessly before his eyes."
Mary Shelley's Frankenstein:
"It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless, yellow thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the bright blue eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its thin limbs."
And Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven:
"Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Spongebob of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and giggled, and nothing more."
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~John
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