Chapter 30 Chapter 30 Get That Thing Out of Your Hair

Perry stepped out of the bathtub, and the bathroom was filled with a thick fog of steam.He wiped his body gently with a towel, feeling so peaceful that all his consciousness (and his capricious memory) came to life in an instant.The headache has basically subsided.He is very hungry.really hungry.Cleaning the bathroom might have to wait until after he's cleaned the fridge.Let's start with some pie. The strangest thing is that he doesn't feel the itch now.In fact, he just remembered waking up on the floor since hitting him and until now, he didn't itch at all.Except for a few red stubbles that just grew.

He carefully avoided the filthy floor, not wanting to stain his freshly washed feet, and then came to the mirror covered with water mist.He wiped a small piece out with his hand, and through the tiny drops of water on the mirror he could see the stubble, which looked like it hadn't been shaved for at least two days. God...how long has he been unconscious? He wrapped a towel around his waist, went to the living room, and turned on the TV. Channel 23 is the promo channel and always shows the date and time in the lower left corner of the screen. It is now 12:40pm.But today is not Thursday, February 6.Today is February 7th.

Friday. He has been unconscious since he got home on Wednesday.About 48 hours.Almost two full days. He didn't pass out, he was in a fucking coma for two days.two days?He fell asleep in a puddle of his own vomit for two days?Two days of hell, no wonder he was so hungry. Perry picked up the phone.There are 16 unchecked messages.Maybe most of it was from Sandy, wondering if he's still coming to work. Work.Counting since he was ordered to go home, he has been absent from work for two full days.Now he may have been fired.There's no way he's sneaking into the office at 1pm on a Friday.Then he explained without shame, "I'm sorry, boss, but I did slip in the bathroom, hit my head on the toilet, and passed out in my own vomit for two days."

Perry sat on the couch, scrolling through text messages.As expected, there were two text messages from Sandy, seven text messages from Bill, and the remaining annoying text messages from the telemarketer.Four work texts came on Thursday.Bill, who seemed concerned, said in his last text on Friday that he planned to come over to see if Perry was okay. Perry deleted the information.He put his phone on silent, he didn't want to talk to anyone at all, not even Bill.Perry walked to the gate.Indeed, there was a note taped outside the door. two days.He actually missed two days of work!What on earth would his dear old father say about it?There must be nothing good to say, Perry was pretty sure.He'll make it up to Sandy.Even if he is asked to continue the day shift and night shift, and work overtime on weekends without overtime pay, he will do it for three consecutive months.Concussion or no concussion, he has no excuse for doing so much work.He couldn't just call her and talk about it, that would be too cowardly.He'll drive over right away and explain it to her face to face.Afterwards, of course, he had to rush to the hospital.

His stomach rumbled for advice.Yes, he'll drive there, but he'll have something to eat first.A few minutes later, the last two eggs in the house were sizzling in his buttered pan.The scent made his stomach gurgle even more unscrupulously, and his saliva was about to flow out.He threw two slices of bread into the electric oven, stuffed another piece into his mouth, and devoured it. Before the eggs were cooked, he opened the cupboard, took some jam pies and began to eat.When the fried eggs came out of the pan, the toast had just been baked and bounced with a snap.He took a fried egg between the toast and took a big bite.His stomach grumbled again—a cheerful noise this time—and he stuffed the first fried egg into his mouth and was about to wrap the second with toast...

He froze suddenly, with the half-chewed food stuffed in his mouth. The round orange yolk is glowing, surrounded by a circle of egg whites.Orange.The orange yolk turned into a little chick, slowly growing inside the shell. Grow, grow, grow. Then break out of the shell. The toast in his hand fell to the ground.The buttered side buckled to the floor. What the hell is he thinking?Eating an omelet and worrying about work, with all these fucking things growing on you?He tore off the bath towel and looked at his thigh, the wound was exposed. It was this ghost thing that made him unconscious for two whole days.The blood on his body has been washed away by the water, leaving only a new pink scab, and a small dark red scar has formed in the middle.The wound looks normal.The white growth that made him itch so much has long since disappeared.

The growth was gone...but the rest wasn't. Sitting at the kitchen table, he hugged his right knee to his chest, taking a close look at the calf. The orange peel-like skin has disappeared.But what replaced it made him gasp. Where there had once been a thick, rough patch of orange-like skin, now lay a strange triangle, just under his skin!Each side of the triangle is about 1 inch long. The skin covering the triangles is a dull blue, the same color as the blood vessels on a person's wrist.But it didn't look like his skin.There was no damage to the skin on his calf, nor was there any lesions all over his body, but the skin covering the triangle didn't look like his.Because it feels much harder than your own skin.

At each of the sharp corners of the triangle there is a narrow opening pointing to the center of the triangle.Each slit is only a quarter of an inch long.They reminded Perry of the splits in a homemade apple pie—but not triangular, made of human skin, and shimmering blue. What the hell is this? Perry's breathing became short of breath and he had to go to the hospital. His father died in the hospital.His father never came out after entering the hospital.Doctors are not fucking helping at all.The last two months of Jacob Darcy's life were slowly spent in a hospital bed.The good-for-nothing doctor inserted needles all over his body, poking, stabbing, and experimenting.He eventually burnt out, shrinking his muscular 265-pound frame into a 6-foot-5, 150-pound living zombie, resembling a mummy from a childhood nightmare.

Perry himself had to go to the hospital once, when he injured his knee while fighting for the Rose Bowl.Isn't the fucking doctor supposed to cure all ailments?Still, they couldn't heal his knee.A few months later another group of experts (the Big Ten guards always have a lot of expert consultations, thank God) arrived and said that the first batch of doctors screwed up, and if they didn't screw up so badly, Perry probably would. continue his career. But this damn thing is no more than a broken knee, and it's not even comparable to cancer, which has the hope of surviving anyway.The thing he plucked out of his thigh was alive and moved by itself.

He also has six triangles on him.Six rashes had grown uncontrollably for two days while he was unconscious.It took just 24 hours for them to turn from a small rash to a screaming yellow bump, and 48 hours later to this bizarre triangular growth.So what exactly will they become in the next 24 hours? What about in 48 hours? Not daring to think about it anymore, Perry quickly grabbed the clothes at hand and put them on, grabbed the keys and coat, and ran to the parking lot. go see a doctor. Definitely need to see a doctor.