Read Online What Hides Within by Jason Parent - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jason Parent
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slept miles away. He figured it was one of his own this time.
He scratched his nose, and sure enough, there it was. His hand lightly brushed against the hair, and its gentle movement sent a tingle up to his brain.
He scrunched up his nose and wiggled it from side-to-side. That's got to be what it feels like to snort coke. It must be lodged way up there.
He grasped the hair between his fingertips. It was gooey and off-putting. Gently, Clive began to pull on it. But it was his fingers, not the hair, that gave way. They slid down the length of the protrusion, a good four or five inches.
What the hell? That isn't one of my hairs, unless it's one exceptionally long nose hair. I hope not. It's caught in my snot something good, too. Thanks a lot, Morgan. That's all I need. I bring a girl back here, and she finds one of Morgan's long brown hairs, relationship over. Then again, it's not like I ever have any girls over here besides Morgan.
Clive hopped out of bed, determined to remove the new source of frustration. He ran to the bathroom mirror. The protrusion was clearly visible, but it wasn't a hair as Clive expected. It was something far more sinister. And Clive immediately recognized it for its true self.
"Oh, fuck no."
In anger, Clive grabbed the strand firmly and gave it a hard yank. An intense pain immediately followed, corresponding with a snapping sound in his forehead. A few drops of blood ran from his nostrils into his mouth. Instantly, the ringing returned, echoing throughout his brain and numbing his senses. He staggered from the resulting headache.
Clive tossed aside the remnants in his hand, a broken dragline. He couldn't help but wonder which end of the line its owner had occupied.
"You can't be serious!" Clive screamed at his reflection. " That's what has been clogging my ear? A fucking spider?"
Acid reflux kicked in strong, goaded by the thought of creepy crawlies living in his cranium. Clive dry-heaved over his sink until he could settle his mind and his stomach.
He looked back up at his reflection. With his eyes tired and watery and blood drying on his upper lip, Clive's anxiety was heightened by the sight of his own decrepit face. His fear quickly turned to rage and thoughts of revenge.
"You motherfucker! You're coming the fuck out of my head, now!"
Clive threw open his medicine cabinet and grabbed the Q-Tips. He fumbled with the package, hastily pulling a cotton swab from it. Closing the cabinet door, Clive stood poised with Q-Tip in hand. He glared defiantly at his glass counterpart.
Without hesitation, he drove the Q-Tip deeper into his ear than was reasonably safe. It was the type of action Mr. Q-Tip cautioned against on his box. His head felt as though an explosion occurred inside of it. His headache instantly quadrupled in intensity, causing his body to crumple upon the sink. Nearly fainting, Clive steadied himself against the wall. On its own, the cotton swab held firmly inside his ear.
But something else inside him changed. The ringing grew louder and lost its monotone quality. Ironically, Clive's pain lessened with the ringing's increased volume. Now, it sounded almost like elevator music, like a little voice humming show tunes beneath his skull.
How is that less annoying? Clive wondered. His nervous laughter slowed his heart just a little. When he managed to calm himself, Clive grabbed his phone from his bedroom. He remained there, steadily pacing back and forth. Then, he dialed the Harcourt Insurance Company.
"Harcourt Insurance. How may I help you?"
"Connie?"
"Yes. Who's this?"
"It's Clive. What are you doing there so early?"
"I'm always here this early. You're just not."
"Oh. Anyway, I won't be able to make it in to work today. My ear is getting progressively worse."
"Really? Is there anything I can do?"
"I'm getting it checked out the day after tomorrow. I'll be alright."
"Well, I'll let Judith know. I'll tell her you need tomorrow off, too. Don't worry, I'll play it up a bit,
He scratched his nose, and sure enough, there it was. His hand lightly brushed against the hair, and its gentle movement sent a tingle up to his brain.
He scrunched up his nose and wiggled it from side-to-side. That's got to be what it feels like to snort coke. It must be lodged way up there.
He grasped the hair between his fingertips. It was gooey and off-putting. Gently, Clive began to pull on it. But it was his fingers, not the hair, that gave way. They slid down the length of the protrusion, a good four or five inches.
What the hell? That isn't one of my hairs, unless it's one exceptionally long nose hair. I hope not. It's caught in my snot something good, too. Thanks a lot, Morgan. That's all I need. I bring a girl back here, and she finds one of Morgan's long brown hairs, relationship over. Then again, it's not like I ever have any girls over here besides Morgan.
Clive hopped out of bed, determined to remove the new source of frustration. He ran to the bathroom mirror. The protrusion was clearly visible, but it wasn't a hair as Clive expected. It was something far more sinister. And Clive immediately recognized it for its true self.
"Oh, fuck no."
In anger, Clive grabbed the strand firmly and gave it a hard yank. An intense pain immediately followed, corresponding with a snapping sound in his forehead. A few drops of blood ran from his nostrils into his mouth. Instantly, the ringing returned, echoing throughout his brain and numbing his senses. He staggered from the resulting headache.
Clive tossed aside the remnants in his hand, a broken dragline. He couldn't help but wonder which end of the line its owner had occupied.
"You can't be serious!" Clive screamed at his reflection. " That's what has been clogging my ear? A fucking spider?"
Acid reflux kicked in strong, goaded by the thought of creepy crawlies living in his cranium. Clive dry-heaved over his sink until he could settle his mind and his stomach.
He looked back up at his reflection. With his eyes tired and watery and blood drying on his upper lip, Clive's anxiety was heightened by the sight of his own decrepit face. His fear quickly turned to rage and thoughts of revenge.
"You motherfucker! You're coming the fuck out of my head, now!"
Clive threw open his medicine cabinet and grabbed the Q-Tips. He fumbled with the package, hastily pulling a cotton swab from it. Closing the cabinet door, Clive stood poised with Q-Tip in hand. He glared defiantly at his glass counterpart.
Without hesitation, he drove the Q-Tip deeper into his ear than was reasonably safe. It was the type of action Mr. Q-Tip cautioned against on his box. His head felt as though an explosion occurred inside of it. His headache instantly quadrupled in intensity, causing his body to crumple upon the sink. Nearly fainting, Clive steadied himself against the wall. On its own, the cotton swab held firmly inside his ear.
But something else inside him changed. The ringing grew louder and lost its monotone quality. Ironically, Clive's pain lessened with the ringing's increased volume. Now, it sounded almost like elevator music, like a little voice humming show tunes beneath his skull.
How is that less annoying? Clive wondered. His nervous laughter slowed his heart just a little. When he managed to calm himself, Clive grabbed his phone from his bedroom. He remained there, steadily pacing back and forth. Then, he dialed the Harcourt Insurance Company.
"Harcourt Insurance. How may I help you?"
"Connie?"
"Yes. Who's this?"
"It's Clive. What are you doing there so early?"
"I'm always here this early. You're just not."
"Oh. Anyway, I won't be able to make it in to work today. My ear is getting progressively worse."
"Really? Is there anything I can do?"
"I'm getting it checked out the day after tomorrow. I'll be alright."
"Well, I'll let Judith know. I'll tell her you need tomorrow off, too. Don't worry, I'll play it up a bit,
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