There was blood on my pillow.

My nose was dry. I hadn't bit my cheek. I hadn't somehow lost a tooth. A quick examination of my skull told me that it remained intact.

Oh, duh, I have DNA-Vision. I forget sometimes.

I scanned the blood on my pillow. It wasn't mine.

So where had it come from?

"Ah ha! It was me!" yelled someone from the foot of my bed.

It was my arch-nemesis, The Hemophiliac. Of course!

"What have you done?!" I roared.

"I snuck into your bedroom last night and bled on your pillow! But don't worry; I have no communicable diseases that I am aware of!"

"Still," I said, "gross."

"I know," he said. "Ha HA!!"