Last night in the bar I met a guy with a cyst on his elbow. Or perhaps it was a boil. Or maybe a carbuncle. Whatever, it’s a hell of a thing, don’t you think? The image has seared itself into my retina, and now my dreams are haunted by a never-ending series of ghastly explosions. I’m sorry you have to see this, but I thought if I shared it with a few million unsuspecting friends, the twitch in my right eye might subside. And then maybe – just maybe – I might pick up the pieces of my shattered life and start living again.
Warmly,
Mike
PS. If you’re wondering, yes – the owner asked if I’d like the honor of lancing it. I demurred. You’re welcome.
PPS. If you’re partial to something with less pus in it, there’s a brand new interview with your’s truly over here. It’s pretty good.