Try Not To Do That Again, Fred

It was a little like peeling an orange. But this time the orange could talk. We are hearing the choking and the moaning and all we can think about is fruit. This fruit peeling is the opposite of a massage. Piercingly orange tendrils are frayed in infinite agony. I'm disconnected from the face that used to be Oliva. But Fred maintains that he is closer to her than ever. The doctor said that not a square inch of flesh would be left. The pieces of paper adhered to her body much like a cut that Fred would get whilst shaving. There was a loud exhalation and then... nothing.