In The Parlour, Darkly

In the darkness, I stubbed my naked toe against some table or chair leg or another and cursed a blue streak. My crow was so loud as to be considered mythic and who's to say I wasn't, in those imperceptible seconds after my injury, when my senses blurred and the electricity of my brain shorted for an instant, hanging in the limbo of that infinite moment between life and death so like a crimson-visioned orgasm (ooh la-la!). Of course, it was only later that I contemplated this tiny connection betwixt pleasure and pain and the resultant, if temporary nirvana achieved with the proper alternating doses. My immediate thought was hatred for all heavy wooden furniture. That, and Damn! My toe!