"The Sound of One Hand Flapping"

I look down at Greg's body, arms and legs bent in places they shouldn't be, angry purple bruises rotting at their hinge points. He clears his throat and smiles at me.
"So why the speedo?" I ask.
"You don't understand," Greg says.
"Um...No," I say. "No, I'm pretty sure I don't."
Greg lets out a ragged sigh and winces. It's clear this hasn't been a completely painless process for him.
"I'm trying to become something new, Bill," he says. I'm suddenly struck by how much he looks like my 9th grade algebra teacher when he was trying to explain the quadratic formula to me. I didn't get it.
"I don't get it," I tell Greg.
"It's a journey I'm on," he says. "To broaden my mind and gain control of my body."
"Right," I say. "It's some kind of twisted Zen thing, then."
He looks disappointed, and for several seconds he says nothing.
"So..." I start, uncomfortable with many things, but mostly the silence.
"Does your skin crawl?" He suddenly asks.
"What?" I ask.
"Does your skin crawl?" He asks again.
"Well, I have to admit," I say, "seeing you like this is pretty creepy."
"No!" he shouts, and from the way his face twitches, it hurt.
"Okay, okay," I say, and crouch down next to him. "Calm down."
"I know you've felt it," he says, a little desperately. "When you sense danger, evil, a passing spirit, something. We've all felt it."
"Skin crawling?" I ask.
"Yes," he hisses. "Your skin moves. It reacts, on a primal level."
"Okay," I say again, my eyes darting around the room to avoid looking him in the eye. There is a large blunt hammer in the corner of the room that I suspect was the primary agent of his "journey."
"Cilia," he says, and waits.
"Who?" I ask, looking back at him.
"Cilia," he says again. "The most basic form of movement. The protozoan tentacle mass. It lies within us. Within all life."
"Cilia," I say, standing. "You're saying that shivers down our spine are caused by protozoan tentacles."
"I'm forcing them out," he whispers. "Like the man who loses sight and gains exceptional hearing. My body will find a way."
"Hmph," I grunt, noticing a wet stain grow underneath his body.
"Don't you see?" he asks. "I'm not losing four limbs! I'm gaining hundreds!"
Satisfied the stain isn't blood from an actively bleeding wound, I point at it. "Did you just pee?" I ask.
He looks embarrassed. "Sorry," he says. "I can't writhe to the bathroom yet."
"Hey, I'm not the one who has to lay in it," I say, walking to the door.
"Should I come by next week then?" I ask.
"Sure," he says. "My Path will be more convincing when you can see me shambling about for real. It'll be cool."
"All right," I say, opening the door and stepping out.
Turning around, I point at the door. "Should I shut this?" I ask.
"Please do," he says.

Comments

[Katee]

Oh, I love it. Thank you Dean!

[flyyhigh]

Eek. Not something I wanted to read while eating. Sadly I lost my appetite for the pear.

[the wife]

"So why the speedo?" I ask.
"You don't understand," Greg says.
"Um...No," I say. "No, I'm pretty sure I don't."

Brilliance.

[Q]

Does anyone else know the Quadratic Formula song?

[Pell Mel]

I have to agree with the wife.
My first thought:

Brilliant.

I'm trying to avoid a second thought. It's a little too disturbing.

[MAYday]

I LOVE THE QUADRATIC FORMULA SONG!!!

[Enna Isilee]

What? I know the quadratic formula song that's to the tune of the mulberry song.