As you approach, Greg sees you and gets excited, "Hey! Look who it is! My favorite sailor!"

Greg has been your friend for ages. He was also a sailor, until a tragic accident on the high seas. (fade out)

It is a fine, sunny day, in the middle of the Atlantic. You and Greg are on the ship's deck with a beer in your hand, admiring the beauty of it all.

Just as you are about to tell Greg the greatest thing in the world, you are blindsided by projectile vomit. "WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM?!" you scream out into the windless sea in your best authoritative sailor voice. Then you turn to your dear friend, Greg.

"OH DEAR GOD!" you scream.

Vomit is shooting out of his mouth. His hands go up helplessly in a feeble attempt to stop it, but they were blasted off, flew onto the deck, and slowly melted into a puddle of melted hands and stomach acid.

Yes, Greg's hands are gone now. And as you looked at those stumps now and remembered that day, you feel your eyes getting misty.

"Yup," you tell him. "It's been a while, Greg."

You stare at Greg and search for something to start a conversation with. You think and you think. What should you talk about?

His stump


Less talking more hawking! The park awaits!

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