• Handy.

    I limped into the building. I could hear the blood drips splat onto the ground. I was starting to feel dizzy, very dizzy. I about collapsed against Juju’s door. I banded on it as hard as I could. If I could feel my hand, I probably wouldn’t felt that bone snap.
    “Who is it,” Juju asked, opening the door.
    She was wearing scrubs that looked like they had blood stains sewed into them. She was holding a mix match of torture weapons, or medical tools, I can’t tell the difference. Her hair was barley below her ears, but it seamed to hide her whole face in a blonde cocoon. Her sly, stylish glasses often hid her wonderfully blue eyes with a white shimmer.
    “Oh, it’s you. You know, we simply must stop meeting like this.” She flirted, leaning against the doorway with a devilish smile. I wasn’t in the mood for joking, so I pushed past her, my one leg barley able to keep my hobbling body above knee height. “Ha, ha, ha. See, what’s makes that so funny is-wait, that’s never funny. Come on Juju,” I said as I jumped up on her table.
    I lied across it, the sound of blood running off the table haunting my ears. The pain was getting so bad that I was actually starting to register it. I didn’t enjoy it. Juju seamed to be pleased somewhat. “Wow. Lost an entire leg? How’d that happen?” She asked me, walking over to the body-sized doors on the wall opposite of the door, reading the labels on them. I snickered. “The damn dog.” I grinned.
    I knew that would get a chuckle from her. She asked me if I was feeling particular tonight, and I said anything would do. I heard the metal slate roll from the wall, holding something heavy. “Alright…the only one I have that is close to your height is an African male. So, it looks like it’s jeans for you for a while.” She said, starting up a small chainsaw.
    I said I didn’t care. So, as the chainsaw ran, it was quiet, so to speak. I was just thinking about my stupid, stupid mistake I made. Stupid dog…stupid barbwire fence…stupid Fin. I need to watch out for those kinds of mistakes. You think I would learn after the first three legs.
    “You know,” she continued, bring the leg over. “The arteries you cauterized actually helped a lot. With out that, you would have died from blood lost already.” She told me, preparing me for surgery. “I know. It was bad though. I think I gave that lady a heart attack that saw me. Me, lighting a cigarette, missing a leg. It’s a good thing she pasted out.”
    Juju nodded, saddening zoning out. I just lied there, relaxing. It’s all good now, I’m in Juju’s hands now, and she won’t let me die. She likes too much. I’m her favorite little freak. And why shouldn’t I be? She spends basically all day in here with dead bodies. She didn’t always stay this late in the collage’s morgue, she used to half a life.
    I remember the first time I met her; I was in this room, sewing on a finger. I lost it in a really, really bad car jacking job. Well, I was failing as usual, and she came in. I just jumped up and ran. It took a week of hiding before I finally came to her. After a long, awkward speech, we became kinda close.
    So, two years later, here she is, sewing on various body parts for me. She’s a keeper.
    “So, now that we’re almost done here…” she said, finishing up the surgery. “What to come back to my place? I got nothing going on as usual. You can mess around on the Xbox or something while I’ll do homework.” She offered. That didn’t sound half bad. I have nothing going on the rest of the night, might as well be with company. Well, more company than just a new leg.