Waternoose

From a young age, Wilbur always wanted to dance. Some say he danced before he could walk. He would take the classes after school, ignoring the japes and jeers of his classmates. They claimed that dancing was only for bipedal creatures. That any person of such a sophisticated number of appendages wouldn't be caught dead flailing about on a rainbow coloured checkboard floor. And yet Wilbur proved them wrong. He learnt all the moves, the Octo-Fandago, the Kalameringue and, of course, the twerk. At the big dance recital just before graduation, Wilbur choreographed an entire movement, and everybody cheered and clapped. He was voted "most likely to succeed". But as we all know, success is cruel magister...

Henry Sullivan, the coolest flashiest guy in town had heard of Wilbur's sweet gyrations. Oh, if only his insecurities about his measly 3 legs hadn't driven him to challenge Wilbur to dance battle... on the streets. It was at that fatal moment that a truck, filled with bath bombs, would go careening off the side of the freeway, crashing into crowd that had gathered, in a horrific explosion that smelt fantastic but didn't feel all that great.

Wilbur woke up 7 years later, having been in a medically induced coma all that time. His friends have moved on, his parents had passed away and, while his high-school sweetheart had waited for him, he hadn't gotten around to coming out to her before the accident so there was something of an awkward conversation there. They did not remain friends afterwards.

Worst of all, the nerve endings on his tentacles were completely destroyed. He could no longer correctly judge the surface tension between his "feet" and the ground, which as we all know is incredibly important for dancing. This coupled with severe lung issues meaning he had to smoke 5 cigarettes a day to stay alive, left Wilbur all alone in the world, and completely penniless aside from the small settlement the bath bomb company had given him for cutting the brakes on their delivery driver's trucks to "increase productivity". The settlement wasn't even in real money, but rather enough "R&R-points" to get a single pedicure.

Figuring he had nothing left to lose, and resolving to afterwards debase himself but becoming a politician, Wilbur went to his free pedicure and discovered the most incredible thing. The foot masseuse's technique, his subtle flexing of the tendons and smooth pressing of the pumice stone was slowly but surely restoring the feeling in his nerve endings. Why, it was a complete miracle! With this information, Wilbur could finally continue to pursue his lifelong dream of dance! Of course, instead he realised that a rejuvenatory spa treatment facility would make millions and sued the company for all they were worth.

Despite accidentally dropping his first batch of invitations in a volcano, Wilbur's spa business had a great start. The finest techniques, the smartest technologies and a free eyebrow pluck for everyone (just the 1 pluck mind you). Wilbur revelled in his financial success, succumbing the sweet allure we all know as late-stage capitalism. But naturally, as the years went on Wilbur's singularly owned local business fell prey its other vestiges. The rent went up, the taxes were high and Space-Brexit didn't help much either.

Soon, the only customer Wilbur had was a quirky time travelling shapeshifter who rather vainly called themselves The Doctor. Wilbur had gotten along with them fine, in fact some of their incarnations were more than welcome to their VIP+ special treatment 😏😏😏😏😏.

But after a certain lanky trench-coat wearing persona never called, even that small glimmer of hope fell to dread and regret. Wilbur set up his plan as hundreds if not thousands had done before him. The only thing significant that ever happened in his life was the Doctor, he was one of an incredibly small number of people in this universe that had even seen most of their incarnations. Now, that significance was going to help him escape. All he needed was more. More money. More power. More bath bombs.

And like so many before him, his plan was foiled. Mainly due to underestimating humans, which I mean, at this point people really should learn. And as Wilbur frantically smashed his fist against the glass of the sleeping pod (acutely aware of the irony that was the horror he was going to experience which he was happy to subject his old friend to, but not overlooking the fact that The Doctor seemed pretty cool with Bonnie committing full blown murder in front of her, barely in self-defence) Wilbur's feet found the floor... and begun to tap...

And a 1 and a 2 and a 5, 6, 7-

* BANG*