Trash Face

My face melts off so I pick it up and put it back on, runny and twisted as it is. Putting on my shoes, lumpy black things that look more fitting for a janitor, I step outside into the fresh, early morning air.

A Boy Scout troop is collecting dandelion specimens from my front yard. Their leader is blowing a whistle and shouting at them to collect more, more! Eventually, they all spot me. One of them shouts: “Oh God, look at that guy’s face!”

The leader blows his whistle furiously and says, “I think it’s best we get outta here.”

A little kid who has been busy urinating in the corner of the yard runs up to me and shoves a wad of grass down my pants before hurrying to catch up with the other boys.

“Yeah!” I call after him. “Well you’re fat!” But he isn’t fat at all. My face, however, is indeed hideous.

I go back inside, remove my face, and throw it in the trashcan.