Pin Cushion

“Hon, can you come here and look at this thing on my hip?” he asked.

His wife walked over, bent down, and looked where her husband’s finger was pointing.

“It looks like a sliver or maybe a real thick hair,” she announced before asking, “Want me to get the tweezers and pull it?”

“Please,” he said.

With tweezers in one hand and a small flashlight in the other, she quickly removed it.

“Youch!” he hollered as she pulled it from his skin.

They examined the thing. It had a thick root, and once pulled from the skin, it left a visible hole where it had been.

“Thank you,” he smiled, “Now I can roll over without the damned thing snagging the sheets.”

The following morning, she got out of bed, showered, and dressed for work, only to find her husband sitting at the dining table.

“Shouldn’t you have left for the office by now?” she inquired.

“I called off,” he said, “I have a problem with my back.”

He stood and carefully peeled his tee shirt from his torso and turned so she could look. Overnight he had grown dozens of hairs like the one she had removed from his hip the night before.

She left the room, returning with the tweezers, and began plucking at the hairs. Her husband squirmed and yelped as she pulled.

“I can’t get them all,” she complained, “Besides, I have to get to work.”

“Okay,” he said. “Maybe you can pull the rest when you get home this evening.”

He walked her to the door and kissed her goodbye.

When she came home and saw her husband standing in the doorway to greet her, she nearly didn’t recognize him. His entire body, save for his belly and chest, held a coat of needles.

“I’ve turned into a porcupine,” he said, smiling half-heartedly.

She touched his back lightly, pulling her hand back with a scream of pain. She had several dozen needles stuck into her palm.

“I wouldn’t pull them out, if I were you,” her husband, the human pin cushion, said, “You might turn into whatever I am now, too.”