so you wake up in the morning, take your nice hot steaming shower (because shaving is MUCH easier after that type of shower), lather up your face, and pull out the trusty straight edge razor (because, as befitting your style, you like to do it old school).
You bring the razor up to your neck for a stroke, an earthquake hits, a big one...think Northridge, but with you right near or around the epicenter. Now you go into a panic attack, which you didn't know you actually suffered from until now because you've never been in this situation, large quake and a razor to your neck with pieces of your bathroom falling on you. The panic attack makes you lose control, you start breathing heavy, your muscles tense up causing you to squeeze the razor a bit tighter. You try to let go of the sharpened steel but your body won't allow it. You panic more. You begin to seize. Grand mal seizures hit. You cry out but no one hears you as they are scattering from the earthquake. You hit the ground, razor in hand, convulsing violently, slicing every which way. Neck, torso, arms, legs, nothing is safe. Your cuts are deep, down to the tendons, muscles, arteries. You begin to pass out from the loss of blood and muscle exhaustion. The quake has passed. Your bathroom is coated with you.
Good morning.
