The scouring pad lay in the middle of the living room. Yellow and green and as out of place as an octopus on a bike in the desert in July. 

Alice walked through the room, casually stepped over the sponge and continued on her way. She didn't wonder how it got there, or why it was there. She didn't even notice the blood seeping out and dcomgealing around it on the floor. It wasn't until she made her way to her office and made herself comfortable at the computer for a long day of working, which translated to fucking around on twitter and not doing much else of consequence, that the souring pad even registered. 

She tweeted to her 57 followers:

@aliceinwonderland: The fuck. There is a bloody sponge in the middle of my living room.

Naturally, her followers, thinking she was British (a fact that was both untrue, and that she let people think true), thought nothing much of the occurrence. In fact, most ignored the post totally, aside from the catty handful that joked about it being a reflection of her poor housekeeping skills. 

Soon, immersed in the flow of all things Internet related, she simply forgot about the scouring pad. Alice wasn't one to take much out of stride wrote it off as a simple lapse on the part of her roommate. He must have cooked and let the dog get hold of the remains. 

Two hours later, when the call of nature urged her toward the bathroom... She found a nicely, albeit bloodily, scoured man and dog dangling in the shower.

"My twitter followers are never going to believe this."