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Only a very slight pressure was applied to the blade before it ever so gently split the skin under my right cheekbone. It slid a half of an inch into the soft tissue before I could feel it scrape against the bone. Sickening. So delightfully sickening. My grip on the dagger's hilt tightened as I felt the warmth travel up the knife and moisten my fingers. It cascaded down my face and dribbled off of my chin into the bathroom sink, a metronome of scarlet drip. With a jerk of my wrist, I cut from my cheek to the corner of my mouth, turning it into a permanent upturned half-grin that exposed tooth and gum. I retracted the knife and returned it to the spot under my cheekbone. My face, it looked good. So very good. I must remember to do the same to the other side. Soon. I held the blood-covered hilt with both hands now, applying increasing pressure to the bone until I heard and felt the metal enter. The sound- a wet snap and crackle. A feeling of divine pressure spread into my head. I felt the ridge created by cracked bone along the roof of my mouth. Delicious. The pain. The pain was phenomenal.

The needle pierced slowly, it's jagged edges tearing. Pushing, ever slowly, through to the other side. This was to be the last of the necessary incisions, but I decided to toss in a few more. My fingerpads had nearly left me from the needle's imperfections, it did not matter, as soon that too would be gone. Countless quantities of crimson beading then sliding its way down the scavenged arm. This was a nuisance. I paused my work to clean the new limb, afterwards I smiled into the metal, it did not help to abate the red staining of my teeth. Resuming, I glanced to the floor, whereupon lay my severed leg and arm, no longer in their respective pools, instead sharing the same puddle. Before wasting precious tissue area, I ceased stitching. While the sowing may be completed, there was still the issue of neurally connecting the used prosthetic. Lacking motor control, my nervous system had already accepted it, as I dug in, the suffering was divine. Sadly, the feeling left as I had finished removing the plug, coated in the rather fresh flesh of the previous owner. I reached with it behind me, the electrodes sending waves of pain over me. I thought I might have a mess on my hands if the experience lasted any longer. Thankfully, it did. The plug had reached far enough to relinquish control of the arm, in time enough to tighten as the endorphins were released upon me. My only regret was that the implantation of the leg would not be as fulfilling.

You put the nail point under your toenail. You put more under your other toenails. You kick the wall, driving each nail up and under the toenails. They crack in half or off completely, bleeding on the floor. Now, you take a pair of pliers and put them in a fire just long enough to get them red-hot. You open your mouth and take the cherry-red pliers and yank out a front tooth. The pliers cause blisters to rise up in your mouth; you can still feel the small bumps as the root of the tooth clears the aperture of the hole it used to occupy. The enamel is glowing too, from the prolonged contact with the hot steel, so you carefully place it onto the bleeding toes, right where your toenails used to be. The tooth singed the flesh a little, then sinks in. You repeat the process, yanking another tooth and feeling the blisters grow and pop, spraying near boiling pus into your mouth. The seared flesh of your mouth emits a smell not too different from mutton; you take a quick lunch break and slice out your thyroid gland to use for a sandwich. Then, you go back to your work, removing 10 teeth and placing them into the open flesh of your split nails. They each sink in and cauterize it, going down into your toes a few millimeters.

A few weeks later, you've accomplished your goal; the teeth, once filed to points, make excellent talons.

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