And then there was the one guy who woke up one morning with a terrible earache. He struggled out of bed, unraveling himself from the blankets. In the bathroom, he located a q-tip, and probed the inner workings of his ear canal.
The cotton swab squishing in his head made a painful grating sound, like sandpaper grinding directly on his brain.
He pulled out the q-tip and a gold-ball sized portion of his head, skull and gray matter came out with it, rotten and dripping parts splattered onto the bathroom tile.
He went into the living room and retrieved the phone from it’s hiding place under the sofa. Fingers flipped through yellow pages, until he found an ad for a doctor who sounded good enough.
Still holding the q-tip in one hand, he dialed the phone with the other, and make a doctors appointment for next Saturday.Ξ ‘Sandcastles imploding,
Unplugging a million brain cells,
Dislodging a million more memories,
They sizzle and scatter and
slip out of place. Ξ
©Robert Emmett McWhorter