You see that red “X” on that hideous pasty highway of veins and moles? That’s my arm and a mark of the beast, put there by my closest confidant and abusive advisor, Raisin, the 18 pound wonky-eyed Siamese.
Obviously he’s put this scratch on my skin as a sort of map for the occult. A place to bury a microchip, store a Friskies treat, or insert the adamantium.
It also looks like I’ve been indulging in some form of self-mutilation.
If I ever left the house, people would see this and feel sad as they picture me sitting at home teary-eyed watching muted Ahh Bra infomercials with a tack to my flesh.