I woke up in my hotel room with a headache. I buried my face in the sofa blue pillow, moaning to myself. Sunlight was pouring in through the windows and the clock read 11:03AM. I had no intention of getting up. There was a loud hammering on the door of the room. "Yes," I called out in a sob. "John!" my mother's voice snapped. "Get up now! Your father's big meeting is on in a few minutes, and the whole family has to be there for him."

"Now Eddie," I muttered, talking about my older, twenty-three year old brother. "He's off flirting with some stranger." "What was that?" snapped by mum. "Nothing," I called back. "Get up!" she hissed. "Right now." I heard the sound of her footsteps moving away, back to her own room.

I got up. I put on my favourite red T-shirt and my favourite jeans (the ones with the paint stains on them) and got on my favourite, grubby trainers. I brushed my messy, collar-length brown hair and them flopped back into the bed. It was 11:07AM.

I started to fall asleep, when it hit me. No, it literally hit me: something sticky, wet and smelling to high heaven. I bolted right up. Something was dripping down my T-shirt. It looked like some kind of green gunk, like a kind of ooze. There was splatter as it hit my pillow. I turned around and looked up. The wall above the wooden bed-frame was covered in the stuff.

Green, sticky slime that was slowly oozing its way down the wall, before landing on my pillow. I was sure that it hadn't been there two minutes ago. It was on the one spot, covering the pale blue wallpaper. I reached and out and poked it with my finger. It made a sort of "plop" sound and shuck like jelly, just as more fell off.

"John!" I heard my mum shout. The oak door blew open and she charged in. My mother is a small woman, with black hair and green eyes. She has a tan (fake) and is always spending her money on cloths, make-up and trips to the spa. "We need to be at your father's meeting to support him!" she snapped, starting at me. "When I say to get up I mean-" She stopped and looked at the slime, just staring at it for a moment before she busted out screaming.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?" she screamed out.

The lobby was a large grand room with blue curtains and large sofa blue chairs and sofas. The desk was made of solid oak and there was a grandfather vlock win one corner with solid gold handles. My mother charged right up to the desk adn started to scream at the man behind it. He was a small man in a grey three-peice suit that looked like it had come from three differnet suits. "There's SLIME dripping down one of the rooms in our suite!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "It's all over the place!"

"Same with mine!" I turend to see a small man in suit with a red tie. "It's just dribbling onto the bed, amking a right mess of the covers! I've had the maid clean them nearly three times and they still stink!" "There's nothing my slime coming from my taps!" cried out a small French-sounding woman in a green party dress. "The entire bathroom is a mess over it!" People began to suround the desk, screaming at the receptionist. He looked around in terror, before picking up the telephone and calling the manager.

I just stood there, at the side of the crowd as people shoved and pushed and screamed at one another. Only yesterday, they ahd been arguing that the pool was a tad too warm and that their roast, well-done lamb with exacly thirty-three chips to the side was too big. It was then, while I was thinking about everyone screaming and raving, that I heard it - or rather, heard him.

"It's a plama-like, semi-copper-like substance that's been lying dormant under the hotel." I was a bit shocked by these words, that someone knew waht the slime was. I turned to see two people standing by the grandfather clock. One was a woman, in her twenties, with red hair and a brown jacket. The other was man, with black hair that was combed to one side. He was dressed in a tweed jacket that smelt like coffee and suspenders. The girl was looking at something that the man was holding: a small glass jar that was full of the strange slime.

Slowly, I walked up beside them. "How's it coming out of the walls them?" asked the woman. She had a Scottish accent, but I wasn't sure waht she was doing in a hotel thirty-five miles south of Cardif. "Well Amy," said the man. "It's been under the hotel, the hotel was built on top of this stuff and now it's coming up threw the walls."

"What'd mean?" I asked. They both turend around and looked at me, stunned. "I'm sorry?" gasped the man. "What's the slime doing under the hotel?" I asked. "You just said it was under the hotel." "No I didn't," said the man quickly. He hide the jar of slime behind his back. "Yes, you did," I insisted. "You said that the hotel was built on top fo the slime and that now the slime's coming out of the walls."

"He knows it Doctor," said the red-head. The man - the Doctor - signed and showed me the jar. "There, you've seen it, now, will you leave us alone?" I glaced over his shoudler. The wallpaper started to tear in one spot. A large blob of glreen goo started to ooze out. "Um, sir?" I said. "Will you please go now?" he insisted. "We've got some very important things to do." "Like stop the goo coming out of the wall behinsd you?" I said with a smile.

"Yes," nodded the man. "Like stopping the ebhind me-" He stopped. He and the red-head turned around. A large part of the wall had given away. A large wave of green slime oozed out, spiling out onto the floor. "Yuck," gasped the Scottish girl, backing away. The man, the Doctor, moved closer. "What are you?" he muttered to himself, putting his head close to the slime. For a moment, the muck-like stuff kept oozing out. Then, something shot out. A rotten, grey, boney hand burst from the slime and burried the Doctor's face in it's palm!