Thursday, January 8, 2009

Everything Has a Face, Part 2

A couple days ago a posted a short bit of writing called EVERYTHING HAS A FACE. I have no idea why I wrote it and didn't know what to do with it, so I invited readers to write the next bit. I got a few responses, all of which I liked, but I thought this one best continued the mood of the first part. It was submitted by one of my kid readers, Viv Rae, author of her own blog I'm Weird So What?

Anyone else want to pick up the ball from here?


"Well, that's rather creepy," he says with a bit of surprise in his tone. The bed gives him a somewhat concerning smile.

Suddenly there was tap on his shoulder. He quickly turned to see who or what it was. Standing behind him was a brown haired woman, that he suddenly recognized as his wife.

"Honey, are you alright?" she says in her normal voice,"You hit your head pretty hard on the medicine cabinet door, last night. You got up really fast saying that you had to pee really badly, you went in there so fast, you didn't even see that the cabinet was open. All of the sudden there was a huge crash. When i went in there, you were lying on the floor unconscious. Thank goodness you're alright."

Once again the man looks around the room. All the faces are still there, with their smiling faces.

"i don't think I'm alright because everything has a face."


Viv Rae said...

I'm not a kid I'm fourteen.

Thank you for posting my writing. i had a lot of fun writing it and was extremely surprised to see that you posted it.

Adam Rex said...

Fourteen isn't a kid? I have friends that still referred to themselves as kids through college. Do you prefer "young woman?" I think I'd feel creepy writing that.

Anyway, you're welcome. Thanks for the story.

Nina Crittenden said...

Viv Rae did a fine job! I can kind of relate, except I still feel like a kid and a tiny part of me died the first time someone called me "Ma'am" Good times.

Kerry Dwyer said...

I do hope it's not too late to post something...

His admittance causes an unexpected surge of self consciousness .
He quickly grabs his glasses and begins to clean them furiously with the frayed hem of his pajama top.

His wife makes a gesture to the door of the bedroom.

"I'll make you some breakfast, hon. And we'll get a little juice into you. It will do you some good."

The myopic man follows his hairy faced wife into the kitchen and sits himself down on the smiley face stool adjacent to a refrigerator spotted with round magnets of many faces.

"Your blood sugar's probably, low, deary, take the glass of o.j....
You know what they say, One glass of juice a day.. will wash the faces away! Ha ha!" she says with a slight snicker and turns around to attend her omelet pan.

Somewhat hurt by his wife's apparent disbelief, the man takes a sip of the breakfast elixir. Staring into the glass, he is surprised to see a frothy orange circle, very much a face shape but without any features. Nothing at all but a little pulp. He puts the glass up to one eye. For a second, a speckle of pulp appears to be a nose but dissolves. He looks up from the cure to his wife.

"See, you feeling better already. yeah? Good." she says reassuringly as she pours oil into the pan.

The man sits agape, taking in the faceless walls around him.

Where did they all go? he thinks to himself. "And what is ORANGE JUICE?"

"Well if your feeling stabilized, do you mind grabbing one of them eggs from the fridge?" his wife asks.

The man pushes off the faceless stool and shuffles over to the refrigerator. Nervously and slowly, he opens the door. Through the sight of one eye, the faceless contents of the fridge appear to him. He pushes pass the faceless olives and ketchup of no faces to the carton of eggs and shuts the door.

He sets the carton on the counter next to his wife.

"Well don't just stand there! The pan is hot! Don't you want breakfast? Hand me one of those eggs!" she orders.

The man opens the carton tautly and one handed, to reveal three brown eggs. " No Humpty Dumpties here. " He thinks to himself and hands the big one to his wife. His stomach growls.

She breaks the egg over the pan and violently jerks back, as a shriek escapes from under her rollers. Glass then shatters, oil pools on the floor, and his wife backside follows the bottle to the floor. Slowly her oil speckled face looks up to her husband.

"Did they all have mustaches?"

Viv Rae said...

for anyone who tries to click on the link you posted it won't work anymore because i changed the url for my blog. it's now:

Adam Rex said...

Fixed it.