“Blood Bubble”

The blood wouldn’t stop gushing from my neck. It started out as a tiny nick when they made me shave.

“You’re too hairy,” they screamed in unison.

“There’s barely anything there,” I screamed back.

“Continuity,” they screamed.

I threw my hands up in submission—“You’re the experts”—and took the cheap razor they gave me into the bathroom to get the deed done.

And I nicked the same spot I always nick. It started as a little trickle of blood. I splashed cold water on it, and the blood washed away down the drain. And then another spot of blood, bigger this time. I stopped shaving and stared at the drop as it formed and grew. It was like a balloon, filling with more blood and expanding. I stared as it grew and grew, larger and larger. The size of a dime, then a nickel, then a half-dollar. Its weight started pulling my head down toward the sink. Okay, enough of this. I dragged the razor’s edge across the blood bubble’s surface. POP!

The blood gushed like a river during a storm. I was so stunned that I couldn’t yell out. I tried yelling but no words came out. Blood was spewing everywhere, on the sink, the mirror, the walls, the floor. It flowed underneath my feet and sent me slipping down, landing on my elbows. The pain. At least I didn’t smack my head.

I yelled again and my voice came out this time. A few seconds later, I could hear the sound of feet out in the hallway running toward me. I was on my back clutching my neck thinking that would somehow change the situation. It did not.

The door opened and the blood went flowing out into the hallway, taking out the two PAs in its path.

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