"This is going to sound like a weird question," Wendy said as she stepped out of her office.
I braced myself. I gripped the arms of my chair. I fixed my eyes on my monitor in the hopes that that would keep them from rolling into the back of my head. I wondered if I could get out the front door before she said another word.
"Have you ever had,"
TOO LATE! ! TOO LATE! !
"one of your toenails suddenly turn black?"
But she didn't stop. . . .
"I think it's my boots . . ."
I tried to shut my ears to the incessant roar. The vacuum that is Wendy's brain.
A moment passed. Is it safe? I let my attention wander from the massive effort of feigning deafness. Only for a moment. But long enough to hear Mick say, "If a doctor were to drill a hole in the toenail you would see a small pool of . . ."
AAAAA! AAAAA! AAAAA! AAAAA!
I must get out.