We’re looking at my shoulder, and I’ve got a saw, and we’re trying to find the best way to extract a pound from there, at around my shoulder. I owe my buddy, Freddie. I owe him big. So he said, “Well, you owe me big. Why not repay with a pound of flesh?” I didn’t have a good reason for no, because I’m about 170 lbs and, so, I’ve got them to spare. I’ve got one to spare, for certain. I said, “Right there at the tip should be about a pound. The tip of my shoulder.” And I’m screaming when we saw into it, at first, because wow, it’s awkward sawing your shoulder. Eventually I pass out. Freddie takes over and saws off the nib, blood everywhere. I return to consciousness. Freddie is frowning and shaking his head at me. He has the slab of shoulder and some bone and other meat on a scale, measuring it, and it is not quite a pound, so we go at it again, get another nib, or more like slice. Takes a while of doing this till we get what we need. But we get what we need. Life’s funny like that.
Matt Rowan lives in Chicago, IL, where he tries to educate things, little by little. He also edits Untoward Magazine. He also has a short story collection forthcoming from Love Symbol Press. He also has been or will be published in great places like NANO Fiction, Curbside Splendor, Necessary Fiction and >kill author. He also is happy.