Bloody Stumps

For some reason, my husband and I were in a hotel on the grounds of the police barracks in Plymouth, Mass. Everything was that shiny plastic marbleized formica tile, like bathrooms from the 1960s, and this place was pink from top to bottom. There was a great juke box, though, with lots of Flaming Lips songs. As I sat waiting for my husband to use the bathroom, some guy came up to me and told me any prosthetic he needed, for any part of his body, he could get for $39.95. I ignored him, and he went into the bathroom. Soon, he came out, and one of his legs was a bloody stump, so I gave him my denim jacket to stanch the bleeding. Meanwhile, my husband was still in the bathroom. I went to check on him, and he was dribbling a continuous stream of vomit after seeing that guy's leg.