Joanne kept punching the giant spiders, but they just kept coming. Each one more gianter than the last except the seventeenth on, which was smaller than the one proceeding it by at least three feet. By the time the ninety-sixth giant spider was there Joanne had to look way up because it was over thirty feet tall. “It’s gonna be one of those days,” said Joanne, referring to how this was the seventh time she’d had to spend a day punching a horde of giant things. It was actually the first time it was giant spiders, though she didn’t clarify that to the onlookers. She’d punched giant rats, giant ants, giant lobsters. She was confident the giant spiders could be lumped into the same category without anyone questioning it. So Joanne spent another day punching giant things. When all the spiders had received the necessary amount of punching, she dusted off her hands and said “The things I do for money,” referring to how punching hordes of giant things was outside the normal bounds of what one was expected to do in her line of work. Joanne works as a museum tour guide. Anyway, she got paid and took her kids out to a pizza place for supper.

The End.

I guess, since I don’t really have any other news to speak of, I’ve got to talk about my finger again.

The healing is going well as far as I can tell. Yesterday I noticed that my body was starting to keep things, like my wallet and sunglasses or whatever, in my right coat pocket again without this resulting in my finger gong “Hey, don’t do that! I’m broken over here!” so I consider that progress. Pretty soon I will be back to my usual standard of things I do with that hand (writing, drawing, tying my effing shoes) and I will like that. I guess it will take a little longer for things specific to my middle finger, but I don’t know that many things I do with just that finger. I can’t really snap my fingers without it, I guess. Also… uh… Flipping people off… I guess?… and… uh… fingerbanging? … Um.

Anyway, I’ll try to shut up about my finger until the final checkup now.