The gods mock me.
About ten minutes ago, as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror for the 1,000,000,000th time of my life, I looked down at my belly and discovered that my bellybutton is not centered on my stomach like it is for normal people. As far back as I can remember I believe it has been centered. At least, I don’t ever recall noticing it being askew before and believe me, its non-centeredness isn’t something I would overlook when I go through my daily leprosy check. In fact, my bellybutton is now located far enough to the right of center to be obvious to the untrained eye, and it frightens me. In the nanosecond it took for my brain to process the highly disturbing fact that I was most likely a mutant-troll doomed to grow more and more grotesque every day until I am forced by an angry mob of torch-bearing villagers to live in the sewers below my neighborhood and sustain myself by consuming raw rats and small children, another even more frightening thought made its way through my mind and filled me with a dread that I know is going to keep me from sleeping peacefully for the next few years of my life.
If my bellybutton was once perfectly centered on my belly, who was moving it? And why?!
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