“There’s someone licking my brain,” he said. “Maybe they think I don’t notice. But it would really be hard not to.”
He had theories, and he expounded one of these to his secretary over lunch. “I think it’s a time-traveller. They know exactly where the back of my skull is going to be, and they travel through time and arrive slightly more than half a centimetre ahead. Then they lick my brain and leave in a split second.
“But there must be something happening to this person’s tongue, yes? Maybe there’s more than one person and they work in shifts.”
“Could be teleportation,” his secretary said. He snorted.
To explain why he kept scratching his scalp, he told his wife another of his theories. “It’s a parasitic twin. All that’s left of it is the tongue, and it’s in the back of my skull, and it wants revenge.”
“Maybe,” she said, “when you’re not looking, I lick your brain. Just to fuck with you. For revenge.”
“Maybe it’s my body trying to excite my cerebellum for some reason. Maybe it’s something that happens in the womb that’s happening to me now. Like a wisdom tooth.”
“Except in your brain?”