The Emerald Burrito of Oz

WRITER'S CRAMP

Whak!
Snap!
Crack after crack.
My fingers fold down
My knuckles break back.
The bones in my hand
Are under attack.

The pain hits me quick
On the side of my wrist
And the throbbing is constant
It’s making me sick
From this powerful blow
That has crippled my fist.

It’s crooked and swollen
I can’t take it back
‘Cause the damage is done-I just broke my hand!

The X-rays have shown
The brake in my bone.
The doctor sits down and sighs.
And it doesn’t look good
When he’s staring at me
With an emptiness deep in his eyes.

“Your hand is in pieces,” he begins to explain,
“It’s shattered,
It’s battered
It cannot be saved!”

“So what do I do?
What do I do?
Can you fix it?
Can you heal it?
Can you mend it?
Can you?”

Well here are your options,”
The doc says to me,
“We can pin it
Cast it.
Then let it be.
In a year or two
It might work for you
But we will not know
Until the waiting is through.

Your second option is to replace your bones
With knuckles and fingers
That are not your own.

I can surgically insert cadaver bones
From a donor, who passed away not long ago.
I can take out your tendons
And ligaments too
And construct a new hand that will work for you. . . . . . . .
TREAT YOURSELF TO THE REST OF THIS STORY AND MORE TWISTED WRITING BY CRISS KARVER
FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY!!!

Dude, Conscience blew my freakin' mind like too few stories do anymore! A blurb described it as something like "If Jim Thompson had written A Christmas Carrol." I'd say closer to "ACC as written in collaboration by Chuck Palahniuk and Dashiell Hammett"... but that doesn't do it justice, 'cause it's just plain "Conscience by John Skipp!" It had everything I'd ever want from a hardboiled noir novel or a short-sharp-fast-mean-nasty mindfuck horror story... and it still somehow managed to leave me with a well-earned feeling of redemptiveness, hope, all that warm fuzzy stiff, while still ending with a pile-up of blood-spraying corpses! Now that's an artistic accomplishment! Please excuse the spastic fanboyish tone of this blurb, but to art so raw and honest, how can one respond or try to critique it beyond... raw and honest?

Keep it up! You're one of my new favorite writers.

i love burritos...green burritos.