I have fleas.
I can feel them jumping all over me.
Right this very instant, there’s one just under my right shoulder blade, another crawling around my left thigh, a third wreaking havoc at the nape of my neck, a fourth on my spinal cord, and a fifth behind my left ear.
Ope, there’s another one on my right calf.
I can feel him.
I played with the cutest little black and white short haired puppy off and on for about two hours today.
He had fleas.
I love puppies. Especially short haired ones.
I want one.
I hate the heebie jeebies.
Or whatever you want to call them.
I’m going to go take a shower.
Maybe I don’t really have fleas.
In fact, I’m pretty sure I don’t.
Except for the one I can feel at this very moment on the tip of my right shoulder blade.
But he’s not real.
Nor is the one crawling across my right temple.
A figment of my imagination.