So I was scratching my head. What can I say? It itched. It itched a lot. I read the label on my new shampoo. Hmmm.  Pineapple, Cocamidopropyl Betaine, Ammonium Lauryl Sulfate, Toxicodendron radicans... something wasn't right. I decided I would call the street vendor who sold it to me later. The immediate problem was the maddening itch.


So I scratched. Probably a little too vigorously because I suddenly tore away my scalp. What shocked me was that it was so easy. It was like tissue paper and completely bloodless. It was like unwrapping a poorly wrapped gift. Suddenly, there I was; the back of my skull exposed for everyone at Panda Express to see. What was I going to do? Well, I did what any normal human being would do if their skull was painlessly exposed... I poked it.


I didn't poke too hard... at first. A gentle tap. However, I have never been one to leave something like that alone. So I poked a little harder. It was nothing like I expected it to be. It felt like the wafers inside a Kit Kat. So I stopped poking and simply pushed. With very little force my wafer skull gave way and my finger was inside my cranial cavity. I was stunned, as you can expect but, being one to never back down from a challenge, I pressed forward. Soon my whole hand was in there.


Well, I thought, I'm in here. I might as well fish around a bit before I go to the trauma ward.


It wasn't nearly as gooey as I would have thought. The brain is nice and warm and has a ... well... you know how the meatballs in Spaghetti-o's feel?  Meaty and rubbery at the same time. The brain feels kind of like that. Plus there's all these nooks and crannies. As I soon found out - that big crack that runs down the middle... all sorts of fun stuff collects there. It's like the couch cushions of the human body.


The first thing I retrieved was a little toy gun. To be more precise it was a little plastic phaser that accompanied my 8" Mego Captain Kirk action figure in 1976. I could have sworn mom got that out of my nose years ago. Of course there was some loose change and a couple of guitar picks. I found my name tag from Randall Video and Violet's class ring. Ancient skittles and the back of the old TV remote.  I was amazed at the pile of odds and ends that were coming out of my melon and accumulating on my tray. So I pushed in a little deeper.


I can tell you that the strangest thing about digging stuff out of your brain-crack is the things you trigger when you bump into the walls of your brain. Sights, smells and memories flashing at me like the blinking lights atop construction horses on a high way. I smelled plums. I saw my cat Maya chasing a laser light in 1996. Then it was 1977 and I had a Lemon Twist on my ankle and I was skipping...skipping...skipping. BAM! "Coming of Age" by The Damn Yankees. BAM! My knee jerked and kicked my co-worker who sat in horrified amazement across the table from me.


My life was flashing before my eyes. It was a rush, like time travel would be. Or when you are stuck in a really really bad traffic jam and have to go to the bathroom... then you finally can get off the expressway and you make it to the bathroom and you have that little *shudder* of relief. Yeah it was like time traveling with a pee-relief shudder.


I sat a while longer, long after my friend had run screaming from the restaurant. I rummaged and shuddered and giggled. Then, just as my hand ventured in a bit further... something bit me. I pulled my hand out of my head and, sure enough, my finger was bleeding from two small punctures. I reached back and jiggled my brain, like you might jiggle an ill-working toilet handle. Sure enough I heard the scratching of little claws way back in there - just above my eyes inside my forehead. Something had taken up residence in my brain's central fissure.


So I loaded my found treasures into a doggy bag, grabbed my carefully folded scalp and went home.


That night I slept on my side with a trap set just outside the hole in my skull. A little cheese should do the trick. Around three o'clock in the morning a loud SNAP and a pained squeal woke me. I turned to look. There, dead in the trap, was a filth covered, feral miniature dwarf toy poodle. I apologized to it for taking its life in much the same way the Native Americans did for thousands of years. Then I tossed the carcass over the fence into the neighbor's lawn. Those fuckers are always judging me.


Now I am sitting here in front of my computer. I am checking on bids that have been made on the stuff that came out of my skullhole. I'm going to make a killing.


There is one thing that I am curious about. I've watched a lot of Zombie movies in my day and... well... frankly I'd like to know what the big deal about brains is. As I've said I'm curious. I figure I can snip a little piece without doing any real harm. I wonder if it's sweet. I'm just going to reach up there and... just take a tiny.... pinch...nfoiu341yu5p9ho3l