He was alive! The world smelled sweet again and life tasted good. The Angel of Death had tasted of his flesh and found it wanting. He was invincible. He took to smoking cigarettes again and increased his coffee consumption to six cups a day. Sure he was older and the coffee forced him to make numerous trips to the bathroom, but that was no difficulty. Maturity carried its own debts. He was willing to spend a little more time in the bathroom if he could live again. No problem was insurmountable. Every day was a new adventure as he recaptured the joy of living. He would jump out of bed in the morning with fresh ideas to use in the Great Game. Howard felt like a kid playing his first game of tackle football; all full of verve and energy, spoiling to beat down every obstacle in his path. When he scrubbed his face after his morning shave, his skin took on the rosy glow of perfect health. The dead cells of his epidermis were easily washed away by his morning shower and spun down the drain unto forgotten oblivion. It seemed like every time he took a shower, he looked better.
Howard’s dandruff became so severe that Anita would take a portable hand vac and suck up the white layer on his clothing the minute he walked in the front door so he wouldn’t trail scurf all over her clean house. They only time his trail of human dust was abated was when he left his umbrella at home and his scalp was subsequently soaked by a sudden winter shower. Unfortunately for the condition of Anita’s floors, little rain fell during that cold and overcast November. He tried every home remedy on the market, but nothing seemed to help the horrendous scaling of his scalp. It didn’t matter to Howard, he was so glad of his recovery that the world’s worst case of dandruff was only a minor problem. Besides, his skin didn’t have the diseased look of severe dermatitis. As each small shred of skin separated, it revealed the clean glow of healthy epidermis beneath it as if he was molting a flake at a time. He put a clothes brush in his briefcase and brushed his suit in the parking lot before every appointment as a prophylactic measure. The only downside that Howard could see was the mess he made in the bed every night. Every morning he woke up surrounded by a pale shadow of discarded skin on the bed sheets. Howard’s exfoliation didnít matter to him as long as his appearance improved. After all, he wasn’t the one who had to do laundry, that was women’s work!
When Anita quietly suggested that they make love, he was astonished at the sexual energy he that was in his possession. After their success in the bedroom, Anita coyly asked if he thought that his sterility might have gone into remission. He mulled over the idea as he reclined in bed while Anita fondled the thick thatch of his crotch. “Perhaps she’s right,” he thought to himself as he laid draped in the splendor of his recent sexual accomplishment, “Maybe I should make an appointment with the doctor and see if things have improved.” He couldn’t bear to admit to himself that he had ever been less than a man. He decided then and there to find out whether he could father children again. It wasnít right that a man like him should believe that he was any less than a full blooded man. The way he felt, he could have fathered a thousand children.