I whacked my hand on the edge of the bed this morning, so hard that I broke the skin and so I put a bandage on it. All day long people asked me what I did to it.

I said it was a necessary part of a blood ritual.

For a moment or two their eyes darted around, pondering the possible plausibility of it. With me, it could have been possible.

However, after a moments reflection on the more probable reason behind the bandage, they invariably asked, “So, what did you run into?”

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