Boyd and Eric

Boyd and Eric hadn’t talked after last week’s time machine accident. Boyd still blamed Eric for the loss of his ring finger and Eric was still bald from the massive fire ball. Either way both had taken a vow of silence against the other and a word hadn’t been spoken since. Not even to the dog, who had nothing to do with the whole time machine thing but who Boyd also blamed for his finger. They would have probably continued their little quiet treatment fight indefinitely, the previous record was 5 months a week and a day (Eric lost although he was on fire at the time), if Boyd hadn’t come to the couch one day with a rather disgusting looking rash. Under his shirt collar you could see it, seperate large purple welt boil looking things.

"Don’t touch me." Said Eric as Boyd sat on the couch to watch TV.

"You broke the silence man! You talked first which means I’m right." Boyd shouted

"Does not. It does not Boyd. It means I don’t want your rash hands or any other part of your rash body to touch my unfestered skin." Boyd held up his finger or rather what should have been is finger.

"Oh to shit with your finger Boyd. It wasn’t my fault!"

"Who had the hedge clippers? Was it you Eric? Was that you with the hedge clippers?"

Eric slumped back into the couch in anger and tried to stare a hole into the TV, or it to make it explode, or whatever so long as he didn’t look at Boyd. Boyd did the same.

"It itches." Boyd said after only a few minutes of quiet "It itches but not on the outside. On the inside."

"It looks awful Boyd. Is it every where?"

"Just about. It came on just last night. I took a shower yesterday and the only spots I had were the ones on my ass I’ve always had and then this morning I was covered in this horrible crap." Boyd began to scratch and Eric shirked away a bit.

"Don’t sctratch it Boyd it’ll just make it worse."

"Worse? Worse than what? And how the hell do you know anyway? Do you know what this is that I have?"

"No but you shouldn’t itch it. That’s what they say anyway." Eric trailed off as Boyd’s scratching was starting to upset his stomach.

"Who? Who says that? You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about Eric."

"Well niether do you Boyd! Scratch away if you’d like but do it in your own room its making me sick."

"Oh is it Eric? Do you feel sick like you’ve lost your finger?" Boyd starting to get angry and his voice trembled a bit.

"Oh that again! Can’t you see I’ve got no hair? I think we’re even!"

"Even!" Boyd was raging and scratching, standing above Eric as he sat on the couch. His scratching had been getting fiercer as his temper grew.

"Even!" he wailed. He was now scratching at a furious pace. The welts seemed as if they were growing. Surely there was almost three times as many then when Eric had first seen Boyd.

"Let me tell you about even Eric." Shouted Boyd unable to stand up straight through the scratching. Just then one of the welt exploded. Puss and something else spayed and Boyd let out a yelp as he fell to the ground. Eric jupmed back closing his eyes from surpirse and disgust. It had made a popping sound, like a plastic lunch bag or a cork gun, only nasty. Before Eric opened his eyes there was more popping, it came all at once like some one was stepping on a huge piece of bubble wrap. Beneath all the popping noise was another sound as if someone were dropping baseballs on the floor. Just as suddenly it stopped. As Eric opened his eyes he looked down, expecting to see a rather disguting and disfigured Boyd. Instead he found fifteen Boyds, naked, ugly, and small. The big Boyd with only one ring finger was nowhere to be found. On the ground lay his clothes and some of the little Boyds floundered around in them like babies. Eventually one came to his senses and looking up at Eric said

"What just happened?"

Bedtime (Next time: Boyds have to work)