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A girl returns to her childhood camp.

"I can take care of that one."

Molly nodded and surveyed the room. "How many pieces are you in?"

Fran drew a deep breath, again causing several parts to move. "Well, let's see. Hands, forearms, upper arms, chest, stomach, hips, thighs, lower legs and feet. And head. And the other bit."

"That's not so bad," Molly said, reaching under the bed to grab Fran's left hand. It wiggled in her grasp.

"Hi," Fran said from the desk.

"Let's see. Which of these is your left forearm?" Molly held up two identical flesh-colored tubes. Fran closed her eyes, trying to conjure a mental map of her body.

"The one on my right," she said. Molly laid her hand on the bed along with her forearm and put the other one on the opposite side, along with her right hand.

"Alright, which of your upper arms is which here?" she asked Fran, turning around with another pair of slightly thicker cylinders, again flesh-colored.

Fran laughed. "Those are my thighs. And the one in your left hand is my left one."

Molly found her roommate's hips on the ground just beside the bed. Her chest, however, had rolled over to the desk chair. She grabbed it by the t-shirt, but Fran stopped her.

"Be careful with that," she said. "Don't bump it around too much; I'm pretty sure my girls detached themselves too."

Molly cradled Fran's chest section on its back and laid it gently on the bed between her arms and hips.

"You're still missing your stomach. Where the fuck did you put it?"

Suddenly they heard the sound of the front door opening. Molly shut the door softly and looked back to Fran's head on the desk, her face white.

"Fran?" Paul called. "I got the pizza."

"Fuck!" Fran hissed. "He got the pizza." Then she yelled to Paul, "Is it pepperoni?"

"Yeah, Fran, just like you wanted."

Molly flicked her roommate's detached head. "Focus, Fran, what do we do?"

"Paul!" Fran screeched abruptly. "Go get Molly!"

His footsteps headed down the hallway towards toward her room.

"For God's sake," Molly whispered. Thinking quickly, she slid the chain into the door and rushed back to grab Fran's head and left arm. She hurried back over to the door, ready for it to open.

The knob turned slowly, and Paul peeked in through the crack. Molly poked Fran's head out from the other side of the door to peer at him.

"Are you ok, Frannie? Did you hurt yourself?"

Molly stuck Fran's arm through the crack in the door and slapped Paul with it.

"Nobody calls me Frannie," Fran said. "At least, not until the third date. Just go get Molly, will you? It's a girl problem."

Paul sighed heavily. "Alright. Where's she at?"

"Taking a test in Horticulture. She's going to the Bio building after that, if she's not in Hort when you get there. Now GO!"

Molly slammed the door shut and listened as Paul's footsteps receded and the front door shut. Then she turned Fran's head to face her.

"That was close," Molly said. "But you got him out of here for a while. Where were we? Oh, right. I literally cannot find your right foot. Can you feel where it's at?"

Fran scrunched up her face, thinking. Suddenly the lamp on her desk fell to the floor.

"Sorry," she said, "I was wiggling my toes. I thought we might see them. But they caught the cord."

"It's ok," Molly said, leaning over the desk and picking up the foot, which wiggled its toes happily. "It's your lamp, anyway."

"Oh, wait," said Fran's head. "Can you bring that over here? I want to lick it."

"Come on, Fran, you can have all the fun with yourself you want when you're alone."

"No, just one lick. I bet Paul five bucks I could do it. Over breakfast he told me I was as flexible as an ash tree."

Molly sighed and brought Fran's detached foot over to her face. She stuck her tongue out and traced it along her sole. Her foot arched with either pleasure or ticklishness, and Fran gave a laugh.

"You're my witness. You saw it happen."


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