Throw the bathsalt

The salt which you used in your bath every day was really the origin of all your trouble with this monster. It should make for delicious irony or at least poetic justice if it proved to be the solution as well. You grab the plastic jar and unscrew the lid with trembling hands.

You are just going to throw the salt into a corner and hope that the tentacle creature will follow the abundant delicacy and leave you alone long enough to sneak out through the door. Unfortunately you hadn't counted on how numb your hands would be after having been tied behind your back for so long.

You fumble the throw, the jar slips between your fingers and spins in the air above you releasing all its content in a virtual duststorm of sparkling, glowing particles. They snow down on you forming a thick layer of monstrous bait, especially on all your most interesting bodyparts.

The blob above you is crawling at you as fast as it can, stretching out dozens of new tentacles in your direction. You only have a few seconds to react before it's too late.

Once again you quickly look around searching for salvation; you see the shower curtain, a sheet of clear plastic hanging to one side; you see your trusty detachable showerhead, your companion through many a horny bath-times; finally you see bottles of various schampoos and bodywashes, some of which could potentially dissolve the creature.