Surgemonkey
In response to a WD prompt: In the right light, his hair almost cast a shadow. "Well, seeing as how I don't have a choice in the matter, I suppose I'll have to go with eyesight." He, Dr Manne, had me strapped to a cold, sterile, surgical steel operating table. I didn't remember how I got there. "Eyesight? Typical." "That's the one I want dulled." "Oh. Interesting. Willingly blind." He was stooped over a table, his shoulders hunched with anticipation. I was catching mainly the echo off the plain white walls. "I want you to enhance my sixth sense." I heard a clang and what sounded like the rapid rearranging of metal pieces of a metal tray. When he spoke, his voice came out in starts and stops. "The sixth sense?" he sputtered. "That's what I said. I want you to enhance my sixth sense." He laughed, slowly at first, with the gurgle building steam in the pit of his stomach, then reached a Vesuvian expl...