Doctor Doctor! I cut my palm. You told me that I should do something to turn the tide of my history, so I took the only way I know how.

My head line forks at the end like a serpant's tounge that bodes for an imminent madness. I didn't know which stem I should erase and which I should keep for luck,

so I took a chance and cut out one on the left. Why are you measuring my pusle and tapping my balls, when I am telling you it's all in these plams, whom we would hold and whom we would let go.

Doctor Doctor am I not right in cutting the left and keeping the right?