Those feet?

The TV was on and there was someone watching it. Two someones. They were sitting at the edge of the Surfer's futon, not far from what used to be his feet. The Surfer looked at those feet. They seemed familiar but irrelevant.

He was more interested in the visitors. They could have been a couple of neighborhood kids, assuming the neighborhood featured pudgy, pasty-faced dwarves, which seemed unlikely even for southern California.

The little fat guy on the left had a dirty blond ponytail and a barcode on the back of his neck. The other one was some kind of skinhead with numerous piercings. They were both naked. The Surfer was pretty sure he'd never seen them before.