Silicon Emetic

Should I even bother to clean up the mess? I sat, feet dangling over the edge, staring in disgust at the puddle of stench I had created. Like an accident on the highway, unable to look away. Later. After coffee.

Auto pilot handled the motions of making coffee. I felt almost human again by the time I found myself staring at the moist ring of brown clinging to the inner edges of my favorite mug. After another cup I couldn’t ignore the smell coming from the bedroom anymore.

I grabbed the roll of paper towels and went to face what I had wrought. I knelt down, Brawny sheet in hand, then stopped. There was something there in the puddle of spew, smooth and oblong. Something that clearly didn’t belong.

Curiosity vanquished disgust. I picked it out of the mess and wiped it off. It was a small plastic cylinder, rounded on the ends, with a seam.

It came apart easily in my hands, revealing a tiny green circuit board attached to what had to be an even tinier battery.

Christ. No wonder I puked.

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