Crack Attack: A Collection of One-Shots and Other Disturbing Shit

Wiggle (Lachlan)

June 15, 2014

"Thanks." The mailman nods stiffly and takes the clipboard back from me to go get the massive box sitting in the back of his truck. Biggest camera I've ever seen, for sure. I take it from him and get a good grip before I trek back across the soggy wet lawn and into the house, slippery blades of grass flossing between my toes as I walk. Today has been a good day so far, for me having to get up so damned early in the morning. Now just to get this beauty set up so I can start the week-long grind for E3 before I pass out again from lack of caffeine.

In nine days, my Chipotbae will be making love to me in my hotel room in Cali.

---

February 27, 2016

"S-toooop..." I can't stop itching my foot. I. Can't. Stop. Itching. I can't. It's so itchy! I crawl out of bed to see how much damage I've done - it feels like the whole bloody thing's on fire. I turn on the bathroom light and hold it up to get a good look at my instep that I've been digging at for two hours now. It's all crimson red and sore and angry at me and there is an area right in the bottom middle that has a purplish color to it. I put my foot up on the counter and bend awkwardly down like I'm doing yoga to get a closer look...

"What the fuck...?" I prod at the little tag of loose dead skin and it moves but I don't feel it. I try to pull it and it doesn't budge or break off. I bend a little closer to check it out - and the fucker's wiggling. I scream and jerk away from my own foot, but of course it doesn't work like that. You can't run away from your own foot. It falls heavily to the tile floor with a smack and I back up so quickly that I crash into the wall behind me.

There is something in my foot. Alive. There is something living in my fucking foot. It's moving around and probably eating me alive. How in the shitting fuck did that happen? I wash my hands like six times and I grab my phone and shit and slide on the nearest pair of disposable shoes. To the hospital we go, boyos! And everything that ever came in contact with the infected foot is gonna be burned in the biggest bonfire of all time as soon as I get back! Let Mum go ahead and question me - she'll be joining me in half a second.

It itches and burns and stings and burns and throbs and burns the whole way to the hospital and I fight the urge to pick at it with the nails on my other foot while I wait in line at the counter to check in. Who knew the ER was this busy at two in the morning? I finally make it to the front of the non-dying line and I don't even know how to explain this. What do you even say when you have a wiggly thing living under your skin, playing peekaboo with you when you try to pull it out?

"Hi."

"Hi," the nurse at the desk says, not looking impressed when I just stand there and stare back at her. "Can I help you?"

"I've got something in my foot." She frowns and puts her fingers in place on her keyboard, ready to type.

"What is it? A splinter, a nail, a knife, a bullet...? What do you have in your foot?" I look down at the bright red spot, sort of ashamed for wasting their time with whatever this is if they have people with knives and bullets stuck in their feet. But what else am I gonna do with the wiggly bit?

"I dunno what it is." She raises her eyebrows and starts typing, obviously not impressed. Why are you such a derp, Lachlan? "It itches like hell and whenever I try to pull it out, it starts wiggling around. I think it's alive." Now she looks mildly interested. I wonder what other sick shit they see in here. Best not to ask.

"Here. I need your cards after you fill this out. Waiting time's about an hour and a half. Make sure your hands are clean and don't play with it."