Satan, Remove Your Disgusting Ben Affleck-Like Teeth From My Hands

My hands, dear God Almighty, my hands! They blew up Sunday night, just blew up to the size of catcher's mitts, yes they did. Woke up around two a.m. to the most unholy pain imaginable, a shooting, throbbing, caught-in-a-vice, crushed-under-the-wheels-of-a-tractor trailer kind of pain, and upon stumbling into the light, saw that both hands, fingers included, were HUGE.

I wept, I cursed, I took forty Advil, I punched Lar in the head, but nothing eased my torment. And still, although somewhat better (at least I can move my fingers), the swelling and pain (unholy, demonic, supernaturally bad) remain. As do the fiery red 666's that appeared across the knuckles of my left hand.

Now, I've had similar occurrences, especially this year, but I've noticed that these episodes are becoming more frequent, are lasting longer, and are increasingly more painful. I did go to the doc about this, oh, around three, four years ago, but he just shook his head and said, "Well, Devil Woman, x-rays show nothing abnormal. You are destined to bear the mark of the beast until the end of your days."

Or something to that effect.

In other news, I purchased a new whore. She's real nice. Too bad I can't screw around with her as much as I'd like. Soon, though. Very soon...