Razor Burn

“Safety” razor, my ass, he thought, bleeding from the open wound between his throat and jugular.

He was getting faint. He splashed cold water on his neck to close the pores, like the guide said, but the bleeding wouldn’t stop. He grabbed for some toilet paper, only for it to turn from white to red instantly. He knew he had to keep pressure on the wound, but his cloths and towels were in the wash, and only his girlfriend’s underwear was on the drying rack in the bathroom with him.

So he wrapped some of her underwear around his neck to hold back the bleeding. To help even more, he tore open a few tampon packages and stuffed them between the panties and his wound, only vaguely concerned as to whether or not he was using them properly.

And with that, he rushed out the door and made for the hospital, which was thankfully only a few blocks away–easily traversable by foot. He ran a little, stumbled, decided to walk. Tampons fell out of the panties but he didn’t have time to pick them up–he didn’t want to fall unconscious in this state.

Yes, he was stared at. Here was a wet, shirtless man, with cream on his face, and a pair of women’s underwear wrapped around his neck, dropping tampons left and right in a power-walk down the block.

The doctors didn’t fully believe the answers he gave to their questions. In any case, he lived, purchased new underwear and tampons for his girlfriend, and only used electric razors to the end of his days.




Day 266’s three random writing prompt categories were, “Shave and a haircut,” “Lifeblood,” and, “You’re on your own.”

The things I think about when I buy a new razor…

– H.

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