“It’s quite hideous, isn’t it?” Margaret peered at the misshapen water bottle perched on her office desk, its warped plastic surface catching the fluorescent light in ways that seemed to defy physics.

“I wouldn’t say hideous,” her colleague Thomas replied, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. “More like… uniquely challenged in the aesthetics department.”

The water bottle hadn’t always been there. It had simply appeared one morning, like an unwanted gift from a reality with a twisted sense of humor. Its presence seemed to bend the space around it, creating a subtle distortion that made Margaret’s eyes water if she looked at it for too long.

“I tried throwing it away yesterday,” Margaret confessed, her voice dropping to a whisper. “This morning it was back, somehow looking even more grotesque.”

Thomas laughed nervously. “Perhaps it’s developed an attachment to you.”

“That’s not funny, Thomas. Watch this.” Margaret picked up the bottle and walked to the window of their 47th-floor office. Without hesitation, she hurled it out into the void.

Thomas rushed to the window, his mouth agape. “Are you insane? You could kill someone!”

“Just wait,” Margaret said flatly.

They stood in silence for exactly three minutes before a soft thunk made them both jump. The water bottle had materialized on Margaret’s desk, its ugliness now somehow radiating an air of smug satisfaction.

“Good Lord,” Thomas muttered, backing away. “This is impossible.”

“Nothing’s impossible anymore, Thomas. Yesterday it started whispering stock tips. They were all correct.”

The bottle gurgled, as if in confirmation.

“Margaret,” Thomas said carefully, “I think you should take the rest of the day off.”

“You don’t understand,” she replied, running her fingers through her graying hair. “I can’t leave. I’ve tried. Every time I reach the elevator, I find myself back at my desk, staring at this… thing.”

The bottle began to vibrate slightly, causing the desk to hum in harmony.

“Have you considered,” Thomas suggested, “that perhaps it’s not the bottle that’s cursed, but rather your perception of it? Maybe if you accepted its presence…”

“I AM NOT CRAZY, THOMAS!” Margaret shouted, slamming her hands on the desk. The bottle responded with a series of liquid gurgles that sounded disturbingly like laughter.

“I never said you were,” Thomas replied softly. “But you have to admit, a sentient, ugly water bottle that gives financial advice is rather…”

“Rather what, Thomas? Rather unusual? Rather impossible? Rather like something out of a fever dream?” Margaret’s voice had taken on a hysterical edge. “Do you know what it told me this morning? It said that by the end of today, one of us wouldn’t be here anymore.”

The fluorescent lights flickered ominously.

“Margaret,” Thomas said, reaching for the door, “I think I should get someone…”

But as he turned, the bottle suddenly launched itself across the room, its misshapen form distorting further as it flew. There was a flash of light, a sound like reality tearing, and Thomas was gone.

The bottle returned to its spot on Margaret’s desk with a gentle clink.

Margaret stared at the empty space where Thomas had been, then slowly sat down in her chair. She reached for the bottle, her hand trembling slightly.

“Well,” she said to the empty office, “I suppose we should discuss tomorrow’s market predictions.”

The bottle gurgled contentedly, and Margaret couldn’t help but notice it looked a little less ugly now.