He watched as his mother crossed the car park, knowing she would spy him shortly. Or if she has, it will register what he is doing soon.
He started to stop, to pull his finger away, but he couldn't; he was so close, almost there. tantalising close.
Mum's pace quickens her free hand, the hand with the keys, waving frantically in his direction, mouthing the word stop as she approaches.
Finally, he snags it he starts to pull. It moves a little, enough that he can feel the beast's tail pull free. The sensation, oh the feeling when you get a big one.
The driver's door is flung open.
'Get your finger out of your nose!!' screams his mother at the top of her voice. 'It's Disgusting.'
He knows it's not disgusting. His mother loves him, and she doesn't want him to pull his brains out.
But oh, the sensation, when you capture a snot slug and pull it free of the cavernous depths of your nose, the tickle as it slides out. The pleasure of its head hooked on the nail.
Oh well, it will wait, grow, and maybe dry out a little; ooh, the pleasure if it dries out a little.
Mum's calm now; she's moved on.
Johnnie smiles to himself. Like any good hunter or fisherman, he knows he will get to try again.
