Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Path: hellgate.utah.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!europa.asd.contel.com!darwin.sura.net!mips!pacbell.com!iggy.GW.Vitalink.COM!nocsun.NOC.Vitalink.COM!wetware!billbill
From: billbill@wetware.com (Bill Bill)
Subject: A cut on the tip of your thumb
Message-ID: <1992Aug6.070926.12413@wetware.com>
Date: Thu, 6 Aug 1992 07:09:26 GMT
Lines: 33

The bulb was stuck in the socket. You took the lampshade
off the lamp and unplugged the lamp from the wall. You sat
in the green overstuffed chair, cradling the lamp and 
carefully wrapping your right hand around the bulb. "This
always works," you thought.

When the bulb shattered, the sound a tiny gasp of tornado,
your hand clenched reflexively. "No, open!" you thought, but
time's decision denied your appeal.

You opened your hand, slowly, prodding your brain with thought
to check for white fire from the palm. Nothing. You looked.
Not a single cut. Not a drop of blood, not a cell out of place,
not a squirtgun stream of red juice. Wait... on the tip of your
right thumb, there... a tiny nick, just turning red.

You prodded the thumb with your left forefinger. The cut, it
seemed to be a crack in glass... it lengthened with a ripping
sound like someone opening an envelope. The skin split down
your thumb and good red blood welled from your palm.

A tiny cut on your thumb, it sliced itself, spread like a bulb
breaking, a slit up your arm and into your shoulder, screaming.
Your back began to split in two, the spine shining wetly, as 
the tiny cut spread into a thousand hairline cracks seeping
blood from every smooth inch of you.

After the sheets of skin had all slid off, the red liquid had 
run off your covering, and you felt yourself beginning to dry, 
that's when the glow began.


bill                    bill         @          wetware.                    com