Asher favored a private beach on a clear Saturday afternoon. Normally, he didn't pay much attention to time or the calendar, but it was essential for him to choose a time when a decent number of people converged upon the sand and water. He wanted the experience to feel as normal as possible. He observed for days and found that time to be from early afternoon to sunset. On clear days, like today.

The sand beneath him was hot, but he could not feel the heat. Just as he could not feel the heat from the sun's rays.

The artificial skin was a success.

He smiled wide, running his tongue along his teeth, from left fang to right fang. He wouldn't need thirty trial days. He intended to buy a lifetime supply. Maybe even learn how to create the skin also. No doubt The Salesman would go for another profitable offer.

Asher stared at his arm, twisting it this way and that way, in childlike amazement. Until a thin, elongated curl of white smoke rose from his arm.

The skin disintegrated rapidly, the thin smoke growing thick, collecting in the air above him.

Asher moved with supernatural speed, dashing past the sun worshipping men, women, and children, too fast to be detected by their human eyes. He found cover in a nearby cave, remaining until sunset.

After the sun sank below the horizon, he abandoned the cave to satiate his appetite, settling for the tainted blood of an alcoholic bum. He imagined The Salesman's face upon the bum's neck as he ripped into the jugular vein beneath the skin of the quasi-man's neck.

Skin Asher grew angrier at the fact that the human waste lacked appreciation of the gift he possessed. He fed swiftly, and then placed a hand on each jaw. Bones cracked and shattered, sounding off like firecracker as Asher twisted the man's head sideways on the mangled flesh of his neck.

"Lying little maggot." Asher dangled The Salesman over the edge of the high-rise apartment building.

"Oh, don't think of me that way." Salesman struggled to speak. "You might want to eat me even more."

Asher stepped off the rooftop. Suspended mid-air, he held the man by his armpits, and growled into his face.

The Salesman glanced out the corners of his eyes and whimpered. Asher held him like a star hung in the night sky by some unseen entity. "Okay. Let's talk." His voice trembled.

Asher returned his feet to the rooftop, and released The Salesman. "This . . ." He grabbed a fistful of the blistery psuedo-skin, and pitched it. "is not what I ordered."

Salesman pulled the jellied stuff from his eye and cheek. "It is, I swear."

"Then why did it fail?"

"I-I don't know . . ."

Asher got in his face again. "Find out. Your life depends on it."

Salesman rolled the skin into a small, soft, beige ball in his hand, glancing down as he did. He thought for a moment. Then looked up at Asher. "I should've known the allograft was what you needed."

Asher disliked the technical talk. He suspected Salesman used it to maintain some level of superiority above him. Still, Asher asked, "Allo-?"

The Salesman smiled a conspiratorial smile, his head low, one brow arched, one side of his mouth lifted. "Fresh cadaver skin."

Asher understood the smile, then.

"If this fails, there's still the cow collagen, and fresh off the research market, neonatal foreskin and the smart plastic skin."

The tech talk again. Asher stared into the man's eyes, his own eyes narrowed, searching for a whisper of thought from The Salesman's mind. Then, as if The Salesman could read his mind: "Trying to read my mind?" he asked Asher. "Idiot," Asher answered. "Don't believe what you read in books and see in movies. I'm sure you'd be dead by now if I could."

"All right, all right." Salesman let out a deep breath. "Follow me. I'll get this right, once and for all." A gust of wind brushed past him, and he knew the creature would already be waiting for him at the underground lab.

By morning, Asher's own vulnerable skin was buried beneath a layer of allograft. He left the rogue physician's lab, an abandoned rural school, opting to greet the sun on the rooftop of the high-rise. He stood nude on the edge of the building, his arms spread, his eyes shut, waiting for the blue of the morning to be conquered.

"An improved product was all you needed," Salesman said from behind.

Asher turned to face the man. Just then, the sun rose, a glowing yellow-orange orb, bathing the earth with early morning heat. It fell upon Asher's back, and the skin began to blister and fall away. Asher widened his mouth, tossed his head back, and released a deafening, primitive cry of pain.

The Salesman covered his ears with his palms until the sound ceased. He spoke as Asher burned. "You don't threaten me, monster. You met your match in The Salesman!

"And by the way, all sales are final. No exchanges. No refunds. Have a nice light." He rushed inside the building, and locked the door behind him.

He was halfway down the top stairs when the door crashed open.

A flaming ball sped toward him like a meteor coursing through earth's atmosphere.

Asher's raw, skinless face emerged from the yellow-orange fireball. Melted, fused chunks of his skin and the cadaver skin oozed from his body like dripping candle wax as he wrapped his flaming arms around the doctor. He flew backwards, over the side of the building, taking The Salesman to his fiery death on the street below.

Asher laid face up, staring directly at the sun through the flames licking at his eyes, as the heat and light seared his flesh and bones.