Disclaimer: Le sigh. I do not own Silent Hill 4: The Room, Konami does, so I do apologise for the confusion if you were under the impression that I did. Be warned dog lovers, this part contains images of big mutant dogs being slaughtered. Try not to be too offended, now! Please review!

Henry's adventures through the big hole in his bathroom wall

Part 2 - Boobies, bladder problems, and bad doggies

Henry opened his eyes and found himself sitting on an escalator, descening. Where the hell was he? It looked like... the subway nearest his apartment. How the hell did that big tunnel lead here? It wasn't physically possible. The place was completely empty, which was eerie considering every time he had been here it had been absolutely mobbed with commuters. But Henry put that thought to one side of his brain, as he reached the bottom of the escalator. Yes, this was definetely the Ashfield subway. He began to walk down the white corridor when he thought he saw someone... or did he?No, he wasn't mistaken. There was a figure standing at the other end of the corridor with their back to him. A woman by the looks of things. Well, it might have been a man in drag. You could never tell nowadays. He/she was wearing a rather short red top, and an even shorter denim skirt. Henry squinted his eyes. Yes, he/she was most certainly a hooker. Not a very good businessman/woman by the looks of thing though. He/she wasn't going to get much attention down here in an empty subway. Henry walked briskly towards the person.

They felt Henry's presence and turned round.

'Who are you? What's your name?'

It was a Hispanic woman, with short brown hair. Henry looked downwards.

('Boobies. Usually those are restricted to females but you never know… Hey, her voice sounds familiar…')

'Henry. And you?'

'Huh? This is my dream and you don't even know my name?'

Henry decided to take a wild stab at it.

'Wendy?'

'It's Cynthia.'

'Ah. Your dream?'

'That's right. This is just a dream. And a really terrible one too. I hope I wake up soon.'

('I know, she's the constipated girl that was on the telephone!')

'So you think this is a dream, huh?'

'Well, if it's not a dream, what is it?'

'Gosh, I don't know. Fiction?'

She seemed to pretend not to hear that.

'Anyway, I want to get out of here, but I can't find the exit. Say…'

She seductively laid a finger on his neck.

'…will you help me find it?'

'Well, I don't know. I have quite a busy sche--'

'I'm kinda scared all alone.'

'No, really. I have a problem with my front door really I should get ba--'

'I'll… do a special favour… for you later.'

Well, this changed the situation somewhat. Henry tried to search his pockets for some cash as subtlety as he could. He couldn't find any, but then realised she probably wouldn't be charging. Cynthia didn't even wait for an answer, knowing that this was an offer that most men wouldn't be able to refuse.

'It's just a dream, so I may as well have some fun,' she giggled.

Henry seriously hoped that this 'fun' involved what he thought it did, and Cynthia didn't have a game of Jenga in mind. H nodded and started walking with her towards the ticket booths. Bujust as they were approaching the toilets, Cynthia collapsed to her knees in discomfort.

'Wait a minute... I... think I'm going to puke.'

And with that she ran into the little girl's room. What a wonderful coindence that just as her bladder problems began to resurface they were near some toilets!

Henry leaned against the wall and patiently waited for his fair maiden to come back out. She was taking an awful long time, he thought. Several seconds later after he had thought that thought, the door for the men's toilet burst open and a pair of rather threatening looking dogs ran out. They had tongues so long that Henry wondered how they managed to walk without tripping over them, never mind run. The doggies looked at him in a way that didn't seem to suggest 'Hello there. Let me lick you in a loving and affectionate manner', but 'I am going to shred you to pieces and then eat your mangled corpse'. Henry was able to take a hint. He desperately searched the surroundings of the subway for a weapon he could use to batter Rover and Rex to death with, and then he remembered the bottle of Haut-Médoc AC Château Cissac 1986 he had earlier swiped from his fridge and put in his back pocket for later. He pulled it out, and then whacked the one on the right (Rover) on the head with it. The bottle shattered instantly, and Rover collapsed on the ground, making a most uncouth screetching noise as he did so. All the wine had escaped, and the puddle of red French liquid lying on the subway floor. Rex noticed this fact, and then started to drink the wine off the floor with his giant tongue. Henry then whacked the stupid mutt with the now broken glass, and he too fell to the ground, also screetching. Clearly, the dogs were still alive. Breathing heavily after all that labourus whacking, Henry started hitting the collapsed dogs again with the bottle. They would not die. Again, and again, he repeated the action but those darn hounds just kept living. Henry was now extremely frustrated.

'Argggggh! Die you bastards!'

He brought the bottle down again, and again, and again on both pooches. No result. Henry collapsed on the ground on all fours, exhausted, starting to believe that these dogs were invincible somehow. And then it occured to him, the one weakness that these dogs had. Why hadn't he realised it sooner, it was so obvious!

'I'll... stamp on them!'

Henry stood over the two cowering hellhounds like an executioner, ready to swing his axe down.' He raised his heel above their heads, and then brought his loafer down upon them in one swift movement. They died instantly. Henry felt rather liberated. He had never liked dogs, (never mind mutant ones) ever since one had nearly bitten his arm off when he was six, but he had never imagined stamping two of them to death.

Suddenly remembering Cynthia, he thought he had better go and make sure she was alright. He knocked on the ladies bathroom.

'Cynthia? Have you been eaten by any dogs in the last few minutes by any chance?'

No reply.

Fearing the worst, Henry opened the door and stepped inside, expecting to see blood and guts all over the place, with Cynthia's corpse lying on the floor. The place was spotless (well, spotless considering what he had been expecting, it seemed that the cleaners were on vacation), and Cynthia was nowhere to be seen. He cautiously entered the room and approached the row of cubicles. He opened each of them, but they were all empty. Where on earth had she gone? Henry had seen her enter, and he had been outside the door the whole time. And then he saw it. Henry became aware of the giant hole at the back of the room. It was different from the one in his bathroom, this one had a funky red border with some strange marks on it. Had Cynthia gone into the hole? Where would the hole lead? Back to his apartment, or somewhere slightly more exciting than that? He was going to find out, darn tootin'.