one day I'll fall over and hit my head so they give me a scan at the hospital to make sure I'm ok, and when they see the results the specialist will go "hold on a moment" in a serious tone then leave the room for twenty minutes. The specialist will return with a colleague who will ask me "did your parents ever mention a complication during extraction?" and I'll look at them as though they're speaking a different language and they will both hunch over the shitty little nhs pc and dig through my files and that's when it dawns on them that it just never happened. They'll take me to a ward and prepare me for an inpatient surgery and lots of specialists and consultants and students will file in and out with faces drawn in concern or curiosity but mostly confused pity. They'll clean and numb my forehead and cut the skin in a big cross to peel it open like a satsuma or a bag or nuts at the pub and that's when they'll see it - the crystal has been growing unimpeded for 35 years and its through the skull and who knows what it's doing in the brain. They'll get cameras and take 8k photos and video and a generation of phd students will reference my burst cranium and how it took seventeen hours to remove the LARGEST CRYSTAL EVER RECOVERED and how it conformed to the shape of the inside of my coconut and they'll opine on whether it happened because I'm transexual or whether I'm trans-gendered because of the crystal growth. I'll never have another headache again and i'll wear my fringe over my face to hide the scar even once you can't see it for the wrinkles, but I think I'll miss it once it's gone
gummygunk
2087
snowghoul
tangentwithtanner
dededos
