By Michelle Enelen
The water ain’t hot enough. I’d ask you to blow on it, but without your lips I’m afraid you’ll just blow it out. You’re drooling again, stop trying to talk! Boy, what a pair. You with no lips and me, no ear. Yes, yes. We agreed. An eye for an eye and all that. We should’ve played it like strip poker. The losing hand loses a hand. We didn’t need to take turns; I truly feel like that was a bad idea. Now when we meet meat, there’s no one to make ‘em feel comfortable. Either of us answers and they skedaddle right pronto. Maybe I should get a wig. Think that last one has enough hair left to make something big enough to cover my ear hole? The woman! The one that wouldn’t shut up. She kept screaming and screaming. Just because I ain’t got no ear, that certainly don’t mean I can’t hear.
You got your hair done at that place a while back. Did they have any wigs? Just shake your head. And wipe your face, gods woman. It’s a good thing for you that we’s already married. Maybe you should’ve lost the ear. Probably would’ve looked more natural for you to come out with a wig. I don’t know! There might still be somebody watchin’ the place. I take that back, you talk too much, good that you gave up the lips. Yours were bigger than mine anyway. We’re gonna have to figure out something and pretty quick too. We’re running out of food and I’d like to save our personal stuff for the very last, should it come to that.
Between your hair and that last one there’s probably enough to cover me. Now don’t cry! I still love you, no matter what. Come on now. If I didn’t, you’d be in a jar, right? I’m just trying to make the best of this. Your face will draw too much attention so I’m gonna put your hair and hers together and go look for a good ‘un. Oh! I see why you’re so upset. I forgot to explain it better. See, I can hear just fine without my ear, so I figure we better pickle the other one too. If we wait until we have to it might be too late to do the job right. If it ain’t done right, well you know how preserves are. They’ll go bad before they get used. That would make this whole point moot. See? I wasn’t gonna just take your lovely hair and not give something of mine. I told you I love ya, and I promised to take care of you. ‘Till death do us part. We may come apart in pieces, but it’s for the good of both of us. So, come on now. You let me at your hair and help me make somethin’ of it. I’ll go get a real wig and when I get back you can cut off my other ear. Just make sure you got the water real hot and the jar all ready. Might pass out on ya again for a little minute. When I got my wig, I can answer the door or go out hunting and they won’t go running away right off because I’ll look regular. We can’t do nothing about your lips, I don’t want no wife with no moustache. I’m jokin’! I’m jokin’. I don’t care what ya end up looking like. You was drop-dead beautiful when we got married and that’s the same as I see you now. Wipe your chin, baby. You’re leakin’.
Raised by Pentecostal preachers, horror was not a readily available commodity. As her love grew, her parents were occasionally summoned to school to talk about book reports and various projects that weren’t quite appropriate for her age. They were lost as to where she’d gotten such “trash”. Luckily for her, there was a librarian that understood her insatiable hunger for darker worlds. Even now, if she could, she’d live among the stacks.
Her penchant grew to include ghastly movies and music, which she’ll happily share with anyone listening. The love of horror continues with her favorite videogame, “House of the Dead, Overkill”. She’s not the best gamer, except when defending herself against the wrong monsters. Head shots are her speciality.
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