A couple of months ago:
So there I was, looking at my nasty ingrowing toenail. It was a terrible. It sat there staring at me, being all ingrowy (if that is even a word?). I decided it was time to take action. So being sensible, I asked Google the best way to clear my toe of this heinous visitor that I didn’t ask for.
The results were a little…well…different.
Stupidly, one site said about using a cream. A CREAM! Geez. What will happen when I use it? I will get softer skin, no wrinkles and turn out looking like a ten year old?? No way. As I said in the last post…nothing but bad news can come from using these creams.
So what to do. Well, I dug deeper. Removed the cream results. How about pliers. I figured it would mean ripping the nail off with the pliers, but nope. You attach the pliers to places no pliers should be. And I don’t mean Finland. Apparently the excruciating pain takes away the thought about the toe.
Never going to happen. I am rubbish at DIY anyway. It was only going to end in tears whatever way I did it.
The only result that made any sense was to blast Gamma Radiation in to my head. Obviously.
So I bought a Gamma Radiation machine. And I blasted myself in the head with it. Daily. For 3 weeks.
Nothing happened. My toe was exactly the same.
Well, when I say “nothing happened”, I am not completely telling the truth. You see, now when I get angry, I change. I change a LOT. And I don’t mean I actually turn in to someone funny. I turn WEIRD.
Let me take you back 2 weeks.
I was doing some gardening. A bird flying above me kept swooping down trying to grab a hold of my seed. Now, don’t take that as some dodgy sexual metaphor. I mean that this bird was trying to get my grass seed. I was livid. I had spent a good 19 minutes in the garden doing work, and now some naughty pigeon was trying to eat what was supposed to make the garden all pretty and green. It was important to me that the garden was a nice deep green colour. But Mr Pigeon was making this very difficult. I reached the end of my tether.
I went nuts. My heart started racing. Then, like those dodgy episodes of Manimal (if anyone even remembers it! If not…google it!!) I started changing. My hands pulsed. My head pulsed. Hell, there was even pulsing where there just shouldn’t be during such a life altering moment. A minute later, everything around me seemed bigger. Like I was now an elf. Wandering over to the door, I looked in the glass. I saw my reflection. I had changed. My calm demeanor was replaced. I turned in to something I didn’t want to be. I became….
That is me. Actual size. Smaller then a pigeon, but faster. More agile. An angry green chick. And I wanted revenge.
Except that I was a chick. Chick’s can’t fly. I got angrier. More angry then ever before. All around me, all I could see was RED…
The angrier I got, the hungrier I got. My wife came out to bring me a cold beer to help with all the “Man Work” I was doing in the garden. I pecked at her feet. She had black shoes on…black…it drew me to it. It was like food. I pecked and pecked. She ran in to the house screaming. I couldn’t call her. My voice was back to pre-puberty. I sounded like a distressed mongoose. I ran about the garden calling her. All she would hear was a mad chirping noise.
And then I spotted it.
Piles and piles of black seed. Grass seed.
I knew I shouldn’t.
But I did. I turned in to that pigeon. Eating all the precious grass seed.
I felt dirty. I felt used. Even though I had used myself.
It took a while, but an hour or so later, I returned to human form. Checking that the important parts were back, I removed my hand from my trousers and went in to the house to tell my wife.
Since then, it has been a traumatic time. Every time I see someone washing a car, I feel a need to go take a crap on it. Every time I see a puddle, I go wash in it. I eat too many nuts and seeds. I throw bread in to lakes and then swim in after it and eat it myself.
I want to use my new ability for crime fighting purposes, but I almost strangled myself with my cape. I need a purpose.
Help me. Help me find the meaning to all this.
Signed,
Confused Chicky chick (although you can call me Hulk)
wheelturninghamsterdead.com 