Jules II

The screeching from his high-powered surgical saw suddenly dampened to a light ringing, which he held to niente. The room was silent other than the patter of droplets against his shoes, which fell with regularity from the scarlet blade. Each breath became a fog in front of their masks through the light from the single lamp above them.

He set the instrument on its tray and tugged at the spherical cross section until it popped off, revealing the twisty, pink, shriveled kielbasa that was his nemesis. He handed off the lid like a finished bowl of vegetarian chili and placed his hands on the shoulders in front of him.

He leaned forward, close enough to smell the slight saline character of the living tissue. "Damn you for doing this to me!" he screamed to the shock of the surgical nurse beside him. She jumped, dropping the bony capstone, which rolled across the room and hit the wall before twirling on the floor, spinning like a coin.

"This is all your fault!!!" He screamed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Dr. Abrams. So very sorry..."
"I'm not talking to you. And call me Jules outside the OR."
"Yes Dr. Abrams" she squeaked.

He heard nothing but the rustle of the scope's harness as he wrapped it around his head. Through the single extruding viewfinder he scrutinized its contour, wrapped in vessels. They resembled little red tentacles. He poked and prodded the familiar flesh, and looked at Shelly with inquisitive anger in his eye, as if staring down Lucifer himself.

"It looks normal, but it is not."

He turned back and resumed his inspection, holding out his hand. He was delighted with its appearance, finding his most precious organ attractive indeed.

"This one is different, and I must find out why. Scalpel"

His first incision was shallow, and along the back side. Nothing at first. Relief. He paused, squinted, and approached the subject, tearing in deeper. The entirety of the surface turned green and then blue. He removed the blade, stood back, and the color reverted to normal.

"That was unexpected." He considered terminating the experiment, but curiosity overwhelmed him. No doctor could pass up this unique medical opportunity. This was, to his knowledge, the first conscious, self-administered procedure of its kind.

He continued his carving, running the blade deep into the flesh. Orange, bright green, magenta...with each millimeter psychedelic images captivated him further. Floating streamers and pulsating stars filled his field of view. He looked beside him and Shelly had morphed into a praying mantis. Twisting the instrument sideways, she became a gorilla, a meat cleaver, then a lingerie model. He stopped twisting.

"Sir Shanahan, is that you?"

"Occipital lobe, probably not the best place to start," he thought.

Recognizing the implausibility of the situation, he pondered the possible explanations. There were no mind-altering drugs recently, and no episodes of insanity. Lucid dream? It was likely.

He recognized the opportunity, and knew the precise locations of the nucleus accumbens. He decided not to beat around the bush and marveled at his brilliant decision to specialize in Neuroscience.

"Suction!" Shelly's elegant hand lifted the small vacuum to evacuate the blood, which had pooled around the perimeter of the swelling organ. She looked up at him over the spattering, slurping machine. He admired her... and decided to offer her a lesson in neural surgery.

He handed her the probe and guided her hand as it pierced the membrane and sunk deep into the ball of tissue.

"Are you sure about this?" Shelly asked.
"Absolutely."

He felt tingling, then relaxation as he adjusted her hand in slight variations. Then he felt a rush cascade through him and his eyes fell back into his head. He let go of her hand and fell back into a chair behind him.

"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yes, quite okay. Let's continue the experiment."
"Okay, but I don't like this..."

He instructed her to move the probe in precise increments. Higher, then lower, left, then right. She followed his instructions perfectly. He crawled to the table and began taking notes.

"1 cm, floating"
"2 cm, sinking"
"3 cm, extreme...ar..."

His writing became incoherent scribbles and he erupted into hysterical laughter, then began crying.

"Left. I said left damnit!"

Jules began rolling on the floor.

"Are you sure you want me to keep doing this?! I'm not doing this. Something's..."
"S-Shelly...Shhhellly. For science, you must continue...I need you to push a bit more"
"No, there is something wrong with this."
"Don't stop damnit!"

She had penetrated his prefrontal cortex, and knew his decision making and social skills had been compromised. Jules had always been a gentleman, and this was a side of him she hadn't seen before. Jules' language became rather unrefined indeed as Shelly continued to follow his instructions.

"Pointy the mr. probe left my sweet and remember the twisty this time."
"Yes Dr. Abrams"
"IT'S JULES BITCH! You've won the stuffed bunny. You must feed it carrots and lettuce."
"Excuse me?"

She became increasingly agitated, he noticed.

"Jules, now is not the best time to get on my bad side."
"For science, bitch, do the twisty thing."

As she twisted, the intoxicating bliss snapped to excruciating pain. It shot through his spine like a bolt of lightning.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

She twisted more and Jules began shaking violently, screeching in agony.

He stood, walked to the other side of the room, and began bashing his head against the drywall.

"Oops, sorry..."

He climbed on the counter and lied down, reaching for something in the cupboard.

"This is my dream damnit! What the hell is happening!"
"Welcome to my world, Jules, things are going to be...different."

She dug deep to make fine adjustments. Jules withdrew and unwrapped a syringe and drew fluid from a container stowed in a drawer. He held the needle in front of him, pushed the plunger slightly, and watched in terror as the tiny stream of liquid flew from its tip.

"What the hell are you doing Shelly!?"
"For science, Jules."

He gained just enough control of his voice to release a shrill scream as the needle sunk with precision directly into a vain in his forearm. His thumb pushed slowly on the plunger as tears streamed down his face. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was Shelly's hand over her mouth.

===========

"Jules! Are you alright?"

He was on top of the kitchen counter, drenched in a cold sweat, clutching a turkey baster.

"Back to bed, honey."

He laid down in his bed and closed his eyes...

If he could just get hold of that probe...