It still bothers me that my own mother didn't

It still bothers me that my own mother didn't care that I was cutting myself, yet my science teacher did.

I was Phase 1 of his plan to put Neosporin out of business. "Let me pour some of my new, mutation-unlikely formula on those cuts," said Mr. Harrison. This parent-teacher conference

dawned to an end when the parents got fed up and left. They thought that the school was too weird for them to stay. I was left in the room with Mr R and Dr N. My cuts turned green.

, Mary and Marvin Maggot moved in did I become a bit concerned. My appearance really began to suffer at that point and even my friends avoided me. There was only one possible cure:

I dialed my dear old Aunty Septic, she'd know what it was. "Hello? Aunty? It's me. Seems I'm in a spot of bother here, what with flesh-eating bacteria and maggots and such in my

brother's club foot. "That's nice dear." Said Auntie Septic. Her milky blathering made her my least favorite auntie. Not Auntie Ayercroftgunn, she was a pistol. She could

Execute anyone who lied to her mafia style, but was my mentor. She taught me never to take bullshit from anyone, just throw it back at them.

However, since the flying sharkcat ate both my arms last night in my bed by accident, maybe, flinging bull shit just ain't my style. I went Yakuza and shamed their ancestors until

all their subsequent progeny came out consistently twisted and purple. It took years, but it was worth it. And no-one bothered me again. Especially since I was now only a torso.