The advertisement had offered a “guaranteed cure for loneliness,” but Tony couldn’t quite imagine how an ointment would help him build a social life. Still, he had paid nearly twenty bucks for the stuff and didn’t want to waste it. The instructions said you would see results in as little as a week. It had been a few days, and he hadn’t really noticed much of anything, except a bit of redness on his chest where they said to rub in the ointment, but a closer examination of the packaging revealed that this was common and harmless, so long as there wasn’t any pain or tenderness in the affected area. He considered stopping, just to be cautious, but he felt fine. He dispensed a small portion of the beige-brown cream into his hand and began rubbing it into his chest. Then he went to bed.
In the morning, he felt something strange: a lump had grown, a hard protrusion the size of a softball, just where he had been applying the substance over the past several days. He poked at it with a finger and found that it was firm but, also, a bit yielding, as if it were a bag overfilled with fluid. He assumed it was some sort of wart or cyst, perhaps an allergic reaction, or maybe the stuff was just toxic to begin with. He had been stupid to try it. He had known that from the very start if he really considered it. Who believes in this kind of crap?
Perhaps, he thought, it would be good to call a doctor? Maybe, but it could wait. The urgent care was expensive, and it could be an all day wait. Not to mention that he was a bit embarrassed. He knew he would have to tell them what happened, would probably need to bring the rest of the package with him so they could analyze it or something. If it didn’t seem to be better after a day or two of not using the stuff, he would reconsider, but for the moment, it was fine.
Throughout the day, he kept feeling as if it were still growing, or, maybe, just moving in some way? It was a strange sensation that he had never felt before. That night, when he undressed, it was definitely larger, and he definitely felt something moving, shifting around. He reconsidered visiting the doctor, decided that he would have to, that it was clearly not going to just get better, but as he was getting himself ready to make his way to the ER, something began to happen.
He had been feeling it move, he knew that, and this was the same thing, but worse, as if it were pushing harder and with more insistence. He walked to the bathroom and pulled his shirt open so he could examine the pustule in the mirror. When he looked at it now, he could even see it moving, something pressing out from under his skin, pushing hard enough that he felt his skin stretching. He reached down to feel it himself and the motion stilled under his touch. He palpated it, squeezed it like a pimple, and as he did, he felt a small oozing of liquid, clear and watery. He pulled his hand back, a bit disgusted, and then felt, once more, the pushing, harder, a focused press at one point under his flesh. The skin felt thin and papery, as if it had been stretched too far. It began to tear, and from under he could see a small hand, then two, each attached to an arm. The arms emerged, pulling open the flesh, then pushing against the area around the opening, climbing from it like it were a cave. There was a small head and a torso. He didn’t see any legs, though. The creature had only come about halfway out of his chest, though he soon realized it was not that it had come halfway out, it was that it was growing there. He had a four-inch half-man erupting from his chest.
He picked up the package, found the name of the company and the customer service number. The phone rang and he was greeted by the usual automated voice, a series of options, most of which seemed irrelevant, and several that suggested just hanging up instead of even making an inquiry. Finally, he got to the customer service option, sat there waiting for the next available representative while the small man began to explore his surroundings. Unfortunately, this involved him pulling and plucking chest hairs.
“Hello, this is Paul with customer service. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with this evening?
“My name is Daniel Strub and I recently purchased your ‘Cure for Loneliness,’ and I am rather distressed at the results.
“What is the matter?
“Well, I seem to have developed a growth that appears for all the world like an imp.
“Yes.
“It is rather distressing.
“Don’t you understand? Now that he is there, you’ll never be alone another day of your life.
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William May Writes 