Fiddler on the Roof

I am not really one to name inanimate objects. I am that guy who refers to his truck as “my truck,” and to my favorite fishing pole as “my fishing pole,” but for the prompt I will humor. I recently wrote a story called “Heebie-Jeebs,” which was inspired by a couple of pre-cancerous bumps on my scalp. Being fair-skinned and spending much of my life outdoors, the little bastard-ly bumps are not uncommon on me, certainly nothing that Dr. Lau cannot quickly freeze, or dig out with a sharp instrument. But the little shits know their man, and always come back. Dr. Lau implores that I wear a hat in the sun (which I always do), but still they come back in their never ending quest to turn truly cancerous and drag me (kicking and screaming) underground with them.

There are currently only two, but they are on the very crown of my skull (which is where the Heebie-Jeeb story began). To my wife’s chagrin, I constantly worry at them with my fingers, so for this prompt I have decided to name the larger one Ol’ Scratch, and the smaller one Beezle-Bump.

I have nothing else to say about Ol’ Scratch or Beezle-Bump, except that they are more irritating than rodents in the pantry, or excrement bubbling up from the bathtub drain, and that this is one of those many things you have to look forward to in your old age. Godspeed to you.

I must go now. The little devils have begun their fiddling, and so must I.