My face is falling off, I thought, feeling more forlorn than panicked.
I looked in the mirror again. Tried pressing the sagging skin back into place with my fingers, as if it was modeling clay.
What are you talking about? I said to myself, myself being my constant companion. Faces don’t fall off.
Freud’s did.
You’re not making sense. Your face isn’t falling off.
Yes it is. It’s sliding right off my skull. Going to be resting on my chest soon, and then the floor. I’ll be as faceless as I feel. An animated skull with two gold molars. People will hide their children when they see me coming. On the bright side, when the doctors ask me what happened, I can tell them that my fucking face finally fluttered to the floor in a fit of folly. That’s a lot of Fs. Funny stuff, that.
Stop it. I like your face. More than seeing you without a face, anyway. Hold on to it. Use thumbtacks, if you have to. Or super-glue. Whatever it takes. Just hold on.
I’m not pinning my face in place with thumbtacks. I’m not going like Freud.
Freud again. What’s with that? You having erotic dreams about trains charging into tunnels? Is that what this about? Sex?
No. Like I told you, Freud’s face fell off.
It did not.
It did. He smoked 20 cigars a day, got cancer and his face fell off. Wore a special brace to hold it on.
That’s absurd.
I like the way you say absurd. The s sounds like a z. Ab-zurd.
Can we please try to stay focused here for a minute? Cigars. Cancer. His face fell off. Look it up. But here’s the strange thing about the story: Days before he was euthanized by a doctor to avoid a slow, painful death, Freud read Balzac’s La Peau de Chagrin in a single sitting.
He looked at Ballsack’s po-po with chagrin? That’s hilarious.
What are you, 12?
Pretty much.
It’s not Ballsack, idiot. Balzac, the comedic French novelist. He wrote La Peau de Chagrin — it means The Magic Skin in English. It’s about a Parisian gambler who is given the hide of a wild donkey that grants his every wish but shrinks each time it’s used, slowly squeezing the life out of him.
This Ballsack fellow sounds like a real laugh-riot. I assume there are a lot of donkey-dick jokes in between the really funny bits about about the sadistic killer mule skin?
He’s not that kind of comedian.
Oh, he’s the kind that makes you cry instead of laugh? I love those clowns!
You’re missing my point.
Which is?
Which is that Freud’s face fell off, just like mine, and that he read a book about magic skin right before he died. It’s both tragic and comically ironic.
What are you reading?
The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.
So maybe your tattoo is about to fall off. But your face is fine.
I don’t have a tattoo.
You’re hopeless.
Yeah, maybe somebody ought to euthanize me, too.
———————————————
I don’t know why, but I agreed to participate in a writing contest hosted by Nicky and Mike at We Work for Cheese. You can read the other entries here, and I hope they’re better than this one. If not, God help us all.
You know I wish sometimes someone would youthinize me. I’d love to be 12 again. You said ball sack. Tee-hee.
I’d like to be about 22-29. Those were good years.
I think perhaps that book you are reading and that cigar you are smoking may have caused some brain slippage here. Blessings to your face.
Sometimes a cigar is way more than a cigar.
I have heard La Peau de Chagrin mentioned many times but never knew what it was about. The reference to a magic donkey skin makes me think of a pack of condoms. Despite that, or due to that, I will read the book.
If you can read it in French, I’ll be very impressed.
Whenever I visit here, I always feel like I’m not smart enough to be here. What am I doing here again? Oh, yeah, 30 Days of Writing Minus 2. I guess I’ll have to blame Nicky and Mike. Damn them
.
Bryan, I feel the SAME way, man!
I’m glad other people are saying this, because I was also feeling the same way. This post is stream-of-consciousness madness, but it makes for some very entertaining reading.
I don’t know whether to feel bad or good about these comments, particularly the stream-of-consciousness madness comment. I was just writing out loud, like I always do.
Great. Now I’m going to be checking my face all the time to see if it’s falling off. AND my tattoos. Fucking Freud.
AhahHAhahHAhhHA @ Nicky!
Your tatts aren’t falling off, but they might not be where they used to be.
No I have to Google Frued and see if his face really did fall off. Thanks, Mike. This was not how I planned on spending my Saturday.
Welcome to hell, Jen.
It did fall off, tho.
that ‘no’ should have been ‘now’. Grrrr why can’t they have a fucking edit button?
We live in a Puritanical society that believes edit buttons should be celibate.
Funny, I just mentioned my balaclava in my post today and after reading your post, realized that it’s dual purpose: it keeps your face warm AND prevents it from falling off. Not bad for a 12$ investment.
You paid $12 for a long rag? What are you, the sort of fellow who’d buy over-priced Kleenex?
Bet my boobs’ll hit the floor before your face.
That’s a bet that would be fun to watch.
Hey Mike! I don’t like the sound of this; is this why I need a corset to stop my chest from slipping to above my belt?! Help me, Mikey-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope! Indigo
If I’m you’re only hope, then you’re fucked, Indigo.
I had this same experience of watching my face fall off, but it was the 60s and I was on acid at the time. I’m so glad Nicky has got you writing again. I love how your tormented, brilliant mind works.
More tormented that brilliant, I’m afraid, but thank you.
Neat!
Suddenly I don’t feel quite so bad about these gray hairs I’ve been getting lately.
Freud’s theories always kind of annoyed the heck of me, so I feel a strange sense of schadenfreude about this.
(HA! Freud…. schaden-freude…. get it?)
Janna! How did I lose you? *rushes off to find Janna’s blog*
You know, now that you mention it, you face really has been looking a little tired of holding on lately.. On Facebook it looks positively rubbery.
That’s a mask. I’m hiding from the law. Something about a drug deal gone bad in San Antonio and three bodies found in the desert.
Oh great… everything in my house is falling apart and now you just made me realize that my face is falling off, too. Ballsacks!
This is the way of life. Or death. One, and then the other. Depressing as hell, really.
On one hand, it would suck if your face fell off. On the other hand, it might be interesting to see what kind of reactions you could get!
Plus you wouldn’t have to shave.
Plus, you wouldn’t have to shave. Or I wouldn’t. I have no idea what the status of your facial hair is.
The internet is eating my comments and your face is falling off. Isn’t there a shot for that? The face, not the comments.
No, it’s like the common cold. There’s nothing to be done about it.
FYI – I am totally stealing “Ab-zurd.”
Please consider it yours.
You always blow my mind with the things that you know. I am amazed with those tidbits of information that you keep stored away for future use. Your brain is like a friggin’ computer while my brain is more like a juke box. Did I mention that your story kicks ass?