I didn’t get a blog written this weekend. I didn’t get my copyediting done either. It wasn’t my fault, though. See, I went out to check the mail yesterday afternoon, and I heard this noise behind me. The slow clomp-drag-clomp-drag of someone with a bad limp.
I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, it was broad daylight. Kids were playing in the street. Dads were walking the family yorkie-poos. Why would I ever suspect…?
Well, anyway, I smelled something really bad, like day-old road kill. Then someone came up behind me, grabbed my arm, and bit me. Bit me! Can you believe it? I felt the teeth pop right through my skin.
I turned, and there was this guy gnawing on my arm. He had the worst eczema I’ve ever seen—skin sloughing off by the handful. It was gross. Naturally, I kicked him where it counts and made a break for it. He was kinda slow and seemed stupid, so I made it home okay. But by nightfall, I looked like this:
I gotta go to the doctor or something. I mean, my left pinkie fell off while I was typing this note and I’m getting this putrid goo all over the keyboard. It’s mortifying!