I recognize terror as the finest emotion and so I will try to terrorize the reader. But if I find that I cannot terrify, I will try to horrify, and if I find that I cannot horrify, I'll go for the gross-out. I'm not proud--Stephen King in Danse Macabre (1981).
So the other day Billy Bob and I were playing Frisbee and he somehow managed to rip a toenail completely out of his paw. It was just hanging by a thread (of flesh, you understand). Billy Bob still wanted to play but I was firm--no more Frisbee with a bloody toenail hanging out of your foot. So he sat down and licked it off. Anyway, here's the toenail (positioned next to special forensic screwdriver for size comparison):
Billy Bob's toenail: Does family style gross-out get any better than this?
No. But don't take my word for it. Click on the picture.
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