The Dead Hand

Cory couldn't find the trumpet he loved so much, so he played the drum set instead. He had always been fond of music--at times so obsessed with it, he would forget to eat. When he was a child, he had once spotted his trumpet all the way over at the island, and kept running into a wall in his attempt to get to it. Fortunately, the hand had straightened him out before that became habitual.

But where was the trumpet now? No matter, time to eat. He rode the lift up to where the animals were. Cory liked the animals--especially the ones above the incubator since they usually provided the sweet kind of food. The only problem with them was their tendency to sting him. He didn't know how they were doing it, but he certainly felt the pain. He picked up the honey and went right to avoid the bees. He started to eat his honey when he noticed--ahh! there was the trumpet! He got into the mover that was waiting, pushed the lever, and went riding along the pulley to where the trumpet lay, right below the colored flags.

He played the instrument for a while, then noticed something interesting: The hand was laying motionless on the ground. Cory stared at it, expecting it to do something, but it didn't. It didn't look normal, either: the palm was facing upwards, fingers curled in, yellowish skin turned grey. If Cory had been smarter, he would have realized that the hand was dead.

He thought that perhaps Sara, the cute blonde he liked so much, would be interested in it. He said, "Get hand," and picked it up--quite cold and clammy to the touch, yet somehow a wave of comfort and contentment came over him as he held it. He spotted Sara down next to the Coca-Cola machine (where she usually hung out), and made his way over to her.

He smiled and droped the hand in front of her. Sara did not react the way he expected.

"Run! Run hand!" She ran to the right and went up the lift.

Cory didn't understand. Why was she running from him? Was it his horns again? He thought she had gotten used to them. He picked up the hand and went after her, chasing her all the way to the submarine.

"Norn," he said, not knowing her name. He then kissed her.

Sara frowned. "No hand," she said. "Get yes Sara."

Finally, Cory understood. No hand. He went down the lift, dropped the hand next to the deathcap, and went back up. Somehow he knew, that would be the last time he would ever see the hand. No more tickles, no more spanks, no more commands. For better or worse, the hand was gone forever.

Cory and Sara boarded the submarine and set out on their way towards new adventures.