Gore

After having a nice study session in the shower explaining to myself the concepts of hegemony and binary oppositions, I went to the closet for a nice chit-chat with my clothes. As I was poking through polka-dots and denim I heard an unnecessary rustling in my bathroom. Figuring that the cat was getting into something he wasn't allowed to, I rushed out of my closet towards my bathroom. As I exited the closet threshold, my nerve endings were surprised with a sharp poke to the bottom of my foot as glass sliced through my first second and third layers of epidermis down to the core dermis. Thick drops of blood made my rug incarnadine. My thought process was 1. That I was naked and I needed help. Someone was going to see me naked if I didn't put clothes on. 2. That my deposit would be lost if the carpet turned ruby instead of the dirty flesh-color it came as. 3. That I was bleeding profusely and might need medical attention. I trailed blood to the bathroom where I pulled the shard of glass from the midsection of my foot and I covered myself with my bathrobe. A red pool collected on the linoleum floor. Throughout this I was yelling "Elizabeth." I realized the door was locked and she would not be able to enter my room, so I trailed blood to the door and unlocked it. She finally came, saw the amount of blood pouring out of me and turned white. She woke up our third roommate, Jesus, and asked for his expertise in wounds. He did this:

It worked!
Everyone retreated to their beds for their fix of salty murder tales. It wasn't long before...

Most Painful Experience #2 Occured.