(no subject)

[weallscream.livejournal.com]

*Fades in through a wall and sits at a table. He is wearing a thick, dark, greasy rubber smock like a butcher might, and large rubber gloves and galoshes. He's carrying an antique doctor's bag (sadly not Vuitton), the contents of which he spreads out on the table in front of him. Said contents are: surgical tools. The sort which look as though their only purpose is to cause as much pain as possible. And they are filthy: dull with age, and crusted with...crust in all the little corners and places where wiping with a rag would have failed to remove...whatever that substance is.

Paul studiously cleans each one with a toothbrush.

...Hob Gadling's toothbrush.*