Throwback Thursday: ‘The Slade Transmutation’ by Richard J O’Brien

One winter morning I woke up with a titanium alloy toe. It was still dark when my alarm clock went off. When it came to moving around in the dark, I was the worst. I could not get from my bed to the bathroom without stubbing a toe on something—the bed frame, the dresser, the nightstand, it didn’t matter. If it was in the room and a solid object, chances were I came into contact with it in a hard way.

My wife Katie was still asleep. When the alarm clock sounded I shut it off quickly and got out of bed. Katie stirred as I made my way toward the bathroom. My left foot connected with the chair in front of Katie’s make-up table. A clanking noise sounded but I felt no pain. The chair tipped over and fell on its side.

“What are you doing?” Katie asked.

She turned on the lamp on her nightstand.

The chair leg that I had kicked was splintered at the bottom, as if someone had taken an axe to it. I stood the chair upright and let it go. The chair toppled over again.

“I broke it,” I said.

“Jack, you didn’t,” said Katie.

The chair leg I had kicked was a full inch shorter than the other three now. That was the first time I noticed the little toe on my left foot that shone in the pale light against the blue carpet. I flicked the little toe with my finger. It rang like a small bell.

“What was that?” Katie asked.

“My little toe,” I told her.

“Are you kidding me?”

“See for yourself.”