It was Friday afternoon. The skies were grey. I was grey. I felt grey, and you probably know what I mean, if you have felt grey before. Being grey feels good sometimes, but usually feels absolutely horrible. But being grey is besides the point. I was hungry, but I did not want to move from the comfortable position I was in. So I began to nibble on my finger nails. They tasted good, so good, that I decided to eat all of them. I slowly ripped each nail off of each finger, one by one. The rusty, iron taste of blood and nail was perfect. But soon, I was out of finger nails. So I took of my shoes, and ate all my toe nails. When I was done, I was no longer hungry. I was happy.