Disgusting Relief

You know what I like?
A pimple.
A pimple filled with pus, and dirty, stinky, watery blood.
You can’t be sure that that’s what’s in there though.
There could be anything in there. It could be a tiny little leprechaun, just waiting to get out, so he could steal the sun out of the sky, and watch us all freeze.
It could be.
I don’t know.
Neither do you.

Only one thing makes the pimple even better. Makes it perfect.
A hair.
A single, sturdy hair growing out from the exact centre of it.
A hair made for grabbing. A warrior of a hair.
All you need now for a perfect day in paradise is some tweezers.
If you know what you’re doing, you’ll tighten the skin around the target area with your fingers. As much as you can.
Then you take the tweezers. You kiss them. You thank them for their service.
And then, only then, you gently pull out that little devil.
Anything could happen in the next few moments.
I only do that in the daytime, cause at night I wouldn’t notice the sun go missing.

So far it’s just been a stream of pulsating yellow liquid.
But one day…