Tygarjas Twyrls Blog

I heard someone utter this old cliche, and thought to myself, “What if?”

Getting Out Alive

They say you can’t do that, right? If you’re wondering what I’m talkin’ about, review the title again and come right back. It’s ok, I’ll wait. I have all eternity you see . . .

Well, sort of. I’m kinda what you’d call “skin and bones” at this point . . . minus the skin. I do still have some tendons intact, but mostly just the bones.  But, the good news is, I got out alive!

Don’t worry, I don’t eat brains. This isn’t a zombie tale. Of course maybe that’s why I’ve lost so much weight lately . . .

I got shot in the head, woke up in a morgue, walked out past a horrified coroner, and have been enjoying after-life on Earth the last several months. Right now I’m lucky it’s Halloween time; a decaying, bloated, maggot-invested body just isn’t as warmly received at labor-day time, I’ll tell you what!

At first I figured the bullet in my head was merely a flesh wound. That nothing serious had been harmed in the process, and that even the doctors had been fooled for a moment. About a couple days after walking around though, once the beetles started following me everywhere, I started to get the impression that there might be something medically wrong with me. I was happy, however, when I awoke on day three and couldn’t feel the maggots that were eating my eyeball out. I immediately sprayed the other eye thoroughly with bug poisons so that I wouldn’t lose my sense of sight.

Oh, and as for that bullet, this isn’t a revenge story. I was back-packing through a Nevada desert while someone a mile-and-a-half off was shooting for fun, and, let’s just say it’s a good idea to plan one’s route really well when traveling through an American desert by foot! So, I never even met the bloke, or blokette. Naw, this is just to state that I did make it out alive.

And I don’t have any kind of science to back me. As far as I know, I’m the only one, and apparently for no good reason. I wasn’t wandering through an Indian reservation. No Gypsies handed me a cursed amulet before I left Hoboken. I don’t feel the need to feast on brains. In fact, the one thing I tried to eat after I should have died was a steak. The maggots just came quicker when I tried to eat though.

So, the point? I’m just trying to document an odd occurrence before the beetles finish eating through my tendons in the middle of the night when I’m asleep, and I awaken with no way to move. I’ve made appointments with a few doctors in the coming days so that I can be examined by scientists and they can work out the particulars of what defies explanation. But first, I’m going to a Halloween party. There I’ll be accepted for a few hours. The truth is you just can’t make out with a cute girl if you have no lips to kiss, which is a shame. Once they see me drinking the punch, and it going right through my bones, I’m sure I’ll garner some curiosity from the fairer sex . . . I do feel bad for the host who gets to clean up after me of course, but, on the up side, at least I don’t have any more rotting skin that can fall off of me. A little liquid seems a small price to pay to play host to the life of the party, Moi!

Happy Halloween everybody! I look forward to what I am once I have not even bones to tie me down!

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