S.B.

(post-titled by Terry)

The Skull Beyond was a serious -looking chap, the kind you'd expect to find in Hamlet, or on a morning kids cartoon show, these days. I regarded it carefully, looking for maggots or signs of a homicide in progress, but it only grinned bonily - and I swear it winked!

Being a consummate flirt, I winked back, and it took my hand in its teeth, ever so gently. I cooed. It gnawed sensuously. I laughed fretfully, beginning to feel pain despite its attempts at tenderness. Behind me, the vengeful ghost of my Big Sister Bobbie moaned jealously, reaching into my back pocket for her old jeans (all my clothes are hand-me downs) hoping to embarrass me in front of my new suitor. Siblings! Can't live with them, can't live with their ghosts! So you just do your best, like now, as I ignored her icy fingers settling in on my rump. I focused in front of me, trying to extract my bleeding stump from S.B., so I could slap my sister with it and make her back off. But then I saw to my horror that she had seen my darling skull - their eye sockets met. I was forgot. Sis grabbed him in her translucent arms and let me bleeding and heart-broken. Even my designer jeans sagged and faded. This is my cautionary tale to all you young skull lovers out there. Don't Do it! Just say No!