rating: +21+x

You never liked grease.

Grease, sweat, body oil, that weird family "secret sauce" that your aunt swore by, all of it. It had this sticky, all-consuming quality to it. It was moist, but it wasn't a refreshing kind of wet. It clung to your skin and refused to let go. Its presence was suffocating.

You avoided it at all costs. You showered three times a day. You washed your hands and face after every meal. You stayed inside, away from the beating sun and omnipresent moisture. You wormed away from every occasion that involved a greasy meal. You couldn't stand it.

One day, you woke up in a bed that was… oozing. You were relieved when you realized you didn't soil yourself. You were horrified when you realized you were soaking in a bed of your own sweat. You scrambled for the shower. You ignored the split splat noises your feet made as you rushed over. You turned the faucet, and let the refreshing water wash over you.

It wasn't enough. The grease was still in every pore and every fold of your body. You grab the soap and start scrubbing. And scrubbing. And scrubbing. It's surprisingly easy. Skin gives way to fat, which gives way to bone. All the lard and cholesterol melts, slips between your fingers, and disappears down the drain in a soapy slurry.

But it isn't enough. You don't stop, even as the shower floor gains a fresh coat of gunk.

It's on you. It's on you and it's staining you and it’s in you and it is you and it won't come off. You start scraping, scraping, trying to get it off. You reach deep inside. First, it's like trying to peel bark off of a tree. Then, it feels like grating a block of wax. Finally, it starts melting under the torrent of shower water. Curdles of osseous matter drift down into the floor and into the flood. Every last bit of you disappears into the drain.

Finally, you're clean.

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