by Cherie Ann Turpin
He looked in the bathroom mirror and saw the thing living inside him behind his grayish-brown eyes. It swam around like a fish in a bowl. His nose would switch as its tail wiggled behind his face plate in the upper nasal passage. He knew then he needed to flush it out and destroy it, before it ate the rest of his brain.
The alien who invaded him came from the meteor dust he and thousands of other hapless citizens breathed in one fateful evening while enjoying July Fourth fireworks down at the National Mall. At the time everyone assumed the bright shooting tail to be one of many of the sparkles and booms witnessed throughout the hot, sticky night. He recalled feeling as though a mosquito had entered one of his nostrils. One month later, he had just enough brain left to know he had a parasite living in his skull, but not enough brain to go seek medical assistance.
Looking straight at the alien living behind his eyes through the reflection in the mirror, he flipped the switch on to the handheld drill and took aim.
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