Avant garde, no?

I don't own a whole lot of mirrors.

I mean, what's the point? We're all going to be vampires come the Bringing of the Five, and then we'll want to be spending our money on blood and dapper hats, and our mirrors will seem to mock us with their presence.

That, of course, is a humourous lie. Not all of us will become vampires come the Bringing of the Five. Some will also become demons of lesser orders. I pity them, really.

Alao, the real reason is that mirrors are expensive.

And it was this lack of mirrors that meant that I didn't notice something that I really should have noticed yesterday until today.

My shirt... had quite a lot of blood on it. Well, it wasn't dripping... but there was certainly blood on it. I looked deep into the eyes of my reflection... "Fuck man," I thought, "What the fuck have you done?"

Then I looked at the area surrounding my eyes, i.e. my face, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank Christ, it was my blood.

And then, on the other hand... Fuck man! What the fuck have you done?

Some impromptu drunken surgery, would appear to be the answer to that question, I ascertained.

That would appear to exclaim the scalpel and lighter I found on my kitchen bench yesterday... I only ever use sterilized equipment.

The End.

No, not really. I wouldn't leave you hanging like that, wondering, "Fuck man... what the fuck HAVE you done?"

Don't worry, I didn't slash up my face in a drunken frenzy - I just took to a small mole in the general neck area.

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