 What happened to Les when he held the eyeball from the detective kit?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction December 1956. When he slid under the table containing the drinks, Miss Pringle, who sold millinery, had screamed: "He'll drown!" One out of every three dirty stories started by party attendees had remained unfinished, because each had reminded someone else of another story. The recently developed liquors which affected the bloodstream three times faster had driven away twinges of conscience about untrimmed trees and midnight church services. The janitor foreman weighed fifty pounds less than the Burma gentleman, who was the salesman's customary opponent. "It's all in the spirit of good, clean fun!" cried Mr. Hawkins, the assistant general manager. There was a scurry to shove the broken glass out of sight and to turn more attention to another type of glasses. Mr. Hawkins himself, acting by reflex, attempted to return the portrait to its place until new glass could be obtained. "We'd better put old H. H. away for safekeeping until after the holiday," he told a small, blonde salesclerk who was beneath his attention on any working day. With the proper mixture of respect and bonhommie, he lifted the heavy picture out of its frame. A yellowed envelope slipped to the floor as the picture came free. Hawkins rolled the picture like a scroll and put it into a desk drawer, for later attention. To hear more of it, he said to her: "I'll bet that's been in there ever since the picture was framed. There's a company legend that that picture was put up the day this branch opened, eighty years ago." He bent, reached painfully over his potbelly and picked up the order form. Mr. Hawkins downed the rest of his drink and pulled a batch of keys from his pocket. But the familiar RATTLE OK sticker was pasted onto the box, indicating to the delivery man that the contents would make a rattling sound and therefore hadn't been broken in shipment. Two-year-old Sally heard the box rattling. She found scissors in her sewing box, tossed a cushion onto the floor, sat on it, and began to open the parcel. The twine sprang away from the carton as if it were alive. Instead, she tossed the wrappings aside and removed the lid from the carton. Ann grabbed her daughter's arms, held them above her head and pulled at the dress. Les pulled off the lid and found inside a circular, shiny metal object. A triangular trio of jacks stuck out from one end.
 It caused him to leave black finger-marks on everything he touched.
 It caused him to leave black finger-marks on everything he touched.  It left his hands sticky even after repeatedly washing.  It burned his hands.  His hands started to turn bright green.