When I came home, I noticed the slime trail right away. I should have stayed in the car, I guess. Anyway, I went inside, and there was a lung sitting on the couch, eating pretzels and watching TV. As soon as it saw me it leapt up and began accosting me, complaining that I didn't have any pay channels and that the pretzels sucked and that the couch wasn't too comfortable, either. So I shot it.
Suddenly, there was a commotion in the bedroom. I glimpsed another lung and a pancreas peeking out of the door before they slammed it shut. The click of the deadbolt told me they knew their time was short. I went to the kitchen and got out the peanut oil and some matches, intending to pour the oil under the door and set it ablaze. But the kidneys were waiting for me. They tripped me, and suddenly I was wrapped tightly by a small intestine.
As I sat there immobile, they called in the brain to decide what to do to me. I struggled against my living bonds, trying to hear what they were whispering to each other. I begged, I pleased, I offered them minty treats, but they just stood there unmoved, conferring in hushed tones.
It turned out that the remaining lung wanted to kill me right there on the spot, but the spleen managed to calm him down and get him to agree with the others that they should just call the police and let them handle it. I'm hoping to plead temporary insanity.