Bones Day.

It was a Sunday, a Sunday not unlike many Sundays before it, lethargic, meaningless, and generally unappealing. Me and two of my friends were sitting around the table rather uneventfully. We would start having conversation for a moment or two, and slowly it would drift off into the undetectable realm that all lifeless Sunday interactions eventually find themselves in. As I sat there, wondering what topic would fill the monotonous air next, I looked down at my wrist bone. As we all know, the wrist bone slightly juts and outs and curves into the hand. I followed this curve with my eyes, and then it came to me, an epiphany of utmost proportions, that would turn this sulking Sunday, into a day of celebration. Not wanting to seem over-excited, for I had no idea what my company's reaction would be to such a startling idea, I quietly said, without looking up, "Wouldn't it be crazy if we were just our bones, one day a week?"
To my deilght, my companians were thrilled! They took my single sentence, and saved our dreary Sunday! We began to discuss the stipulations of "Bones Day", How do you tell each other apart? What if you get hit by a car? When do you put your skin back on? Eventually we decided that every Thursday, respectively, would be said, "Bones Day." It's now the absolute center of my week. I can't eat, sleep, or interact without the constant thought of how my next "Bones Day" is going to elapse.

I leave you with this: Out of a one to ten, my "Bones Day" is always a skeleten.