Isn’t summer fun!!
Blue skies adorned by carefree cotton candy clouds that drift across a golden hot sun who beams his humid smile across the land.
The breeze, though warm, is gentle and lush, carrying with it all the glorious summer scents – wild flowers, freshly cut grass, sweet lemonade, ice cubes and Pimms.
And let’s not forget the mouth-watering aroma of meat sizzling on a barbeque.
Often the smell is better than the taste, but holy roasted Jesus I do love a juicy burger straight from the coals, topped with crispy halloumi and a splodge of ketchup.
(…kinda hungry now…)
This summer has been so…so…Englishy – beaches packed sardine tin style with fleshy bods everywhere, those annoying chairs only a handful of people know how to work, ice cream vans being ransacked by all manner of creatures, and people flocking to green areas to catch a burst of lunch break sun/skin cancer.
We can’t ignore the scent of water in our lovely hot, humid, aromatic summer. An English summer afternoon is always blessed by the petrichor ushered in on a lonesome breeze where it lingers for the briefest of moments before Mister Sunshine bakes the ground once more.
Even the sunflowers are lovin a good splash of water.
Our lush and wonderful lands have been blessed with scorching heat, stinky odours everywhere you look, and the wild and often elusive Pokémon.
I enslaved me a Pikachu.
However, whilst all the fun was happening I was busy watching my fingers turn against me in quite the vilest and most grotesque display of zombism I’ve seen for a long time.
Check this out.
Oh, by the way, this isn’t exactly nice.
Only keep going if you’re not eating.
And you like gross shit.
You have been warned.
Stop scrolling if you don’t to see some nasty shizzle.
Doesn’t that make you feel like ripping all that flaky shit right off those fingers?
Makes me want to puke.
It starts off innocently enough. Little itch here and there, no big deal, I’ve been there before. Then the bubbles appear. And more. Then bubbles under bubbles.
And then they pop and split.
Stuff oozes out.
Some ooze is clear. Other ooze is yellow.
I know, gross right?
Then it goes dry and flaky. And bits crack.
It’s kinda sore. Well, somewhat sore. Actually, it’s fucking painful as hell.
If you don’t believe me, try replicating it for yourself:
DON’T TRY THIS AT HOME KIDS!
- Give your fingers a really good going over with a cheese grater until the skin is cut, open, shredded and possibly bloody.
- Ask a friend to pour vinegar over your hands.
- Rub it into all the cracks and oozing bits.
- You can cry a bit now.
- Then dry them off with a hair dryer, max setting so all the flaky bits go hard and brittle and the cracks around the joints are agonising when you flex your fingers.
- Now do some chores – pick up a pencil, write a list. Drink from a glass. Fold clothes. Fold a sheet of paper. Go to the toilet and wash your hands, that’s a good one. Be inventive. Have fun with that for a bit.
- Repeat steps 2 to 6 every few hours until you find it hard to concentrate on anything else other than the burning hatred radiating from your fingers.
- Let me know in the comments below how much fun you had.
It has driven me insane.
I’m generally quite a happy guy, but this shit has given me a horrible case of the frownies over the last couple of weeks.
I had more photos but they were blurry.
Previous explosions have been limited to my index fingers. This year it spread to all fingers and thumbs and has started creping up the backs of my hands.
Since my post Help! I’ve Got Zombie Fingers! 4 years ago, a lot of people have left comments and suggestions on how to ease this disgusting condition. I have barely had much of an issue since then, until a few weeks ago when the weather went very humid and hot.
I have tried all sorts of remedies, though nothing really works the way I hoped. And prescription cream from the doc doesn’t help. Sure it makes the burning go away for a while, we’re talking minutes here, but it doesn’t stop it.
And it’s not just the burning, itching, want-to-rip-off-my-skin-and-rinse-my-skeletal-fingers-in-ice-water kind of pain that gets me down. It’s the utter embarrassment of people staring or trying to sneak a peek at Mr Zombie Fingers. I’ve tried to keep my hands hidden as much as possible but it’s not as easy as you think.
But still, compared to the crazy shit going on the world my fingers being a bit “hurty” is pretty insignificant when placed next to the suffering of other living things, human or animal.
However, I think there may be a decent solution at last.
If you’re a sufferer of this filthy shit pile of skin lurgy, then get over to Lush and search for Dream Cream.
No bullshit, this stuff is so good. It soothed my fingers, gave them much-needed moisture and eased the pain. Sure they still hurt a bit when I make a fist because the skin is cracked around the joints, but the flaming, burning issue has improved so much.
This is what the product blurb says:
I’ve been sticking this cream on my hands for a couple of days and they feel way better. I admit the temperature is cooler now the humidity has subsided, but in the past it has taken upwards of a couple of weeks for my hands to start healing up.
Here’s a couple of photo’s taken a few minutes ago:
And just so you know, I took the photos in the same place each time, same light conditions, though I think one above I used a flash, but still you can see they’re better.
Lush aren’t paying me by the way!
It’s like having my skin kissed better by angels.
So, to finish this sandwich post with a decent slice of light-hearted flavour bread, here’s a picture of me as a dog.
And here’s a picture of a Stormtrooper bobble head in my car.
One last thing…
All sales from my novel, The Range, are going to the ZSEA – Zoological Society of East Anglia, to help with conservation projects in Africa.
Spread the word – buy The Range, enjoy a good story and help prevent Rhinos from bleeding to death after having their tusks ripped out of their skulls. That shit has got to stop.
Or buy a copy as a nice gift, or pop it in your local library, leave on a bus/cafe/park bench for other horror fans to enjoy.
How about this for a weird and slightly dumb mini story…
I was thumbing through my own copy the other day whilst sat on the arm of the sofa. After a minute I slipped over the edge and slouched back to get comfy. I finished the chapter then had to stop myself reading further because it’s my book and I should know what’s coming!
Just like that, I was fully engrossed in one page.
I admit I felt a tad silly.
Anyway – The Range – buy, read enjoy, save an animal or two.
I suck at sales and marketing.
Writing I can do.
That other stuff…I…oh man….
[shuffles off mumbling and shaking head]