Steve Has Good Eyes

‘What’s that on your hand, Matt?’


‘That glowing purple thing?’

‘Oh my God!’

Though he is blisteringly drunk on cheap vodka, Steve is right. There is a purple glowing thing on my hand. It resembles a regurgitated grape, and it’s growing at an oozy pace. How did I get this thing? All we’ve been doing for the last six hours is sitting here on my mum’s stained couch, drinking, watching cartoons. Anyway, aren’t STDs confined to the genital region? And I’m still a virgin. Maybe it’s alien in origin?

‘Get me a band aid, Steve.’

‘Alright. After this drink.’

‘Ok. And grab me some more bourbon while you’re up.’

‘We’re out.’


The purple thing has gained an oily gleam. It’s throbbing, and looks like it might burst. Doesn’t matter. I can get disability benefits now.

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