"Well," Arnold said, rubbing the back of his neck, "it all worked out for the best."
"It certainly did."
Gregor was ferociously scratching his shoulder. Arnold watched for a moment, then felt a strong itching sensation on his chest—in his hair—on his calf — everywhere.
Carefully, he reached down and probed with his fingernails.
"I guess we aren't quite through, though," Gregor said.
"Why?" Arnold asked, scratching at his left biceps. "What is this?"
"Hem wasn't the most hygienic of people and Oole was a pretty scrubby place."
"What is it?"
"I'm afraid I picked up a lot of lice," Gregor said. He scratched at his stomach. "Invisible lice, of course."
1955