Facial Read Free Page B

gone.
    ME: But…but…but it was right there!
    UNAMUSED COP #1: Uh-huh. And just how much marijuana did you smoke today, sir?
    ME: Not a puff! I’m morally opposed to the use of recreational drugs, excluding alcohol and caffeine! I swear to you, there was a face on my floor and a dead lion and I had to… stop looking at me like I’m crazy !
    UNAMUSED COP #2: He’s acting crazy! Taze him! Taze him!
    ME: Aaargh! My bodily functions!
    UNAMUSED COP #1: He’s still twitching. Decapitate him.
    ME: Huh? What? Seriously?
    UNAMUSED COP #2: Oh, yeah. We’re way more corrupt than the cops you see on TV. Could you tilt your head down a little to make it easier? A little more. Yep, just like that.
    SOUND EFFECT: Thwack! Thump. Roll, roll, roll.
    That scenario seemed unlikely, though. Really, it was just this weird thing in my mind where I wanted to consider the face’s offer, even though it was completely obvious that I should decline.
    “While you are thinking about it,” said the face, “do something with the carcass. I do not mind the smell, but the lack of dignity is bothersome.”
    So, yes, because the face told me to, I cleaned up the dead lion’s remains. Once again, I don’t possess the writing skills to describe the sheer disgustingness of this task. I put the chunks into garbage bags (double-bagging them, of course) and piled them next to the staircase. By the time I was ready to start mopping, my clothes were completely covered with gook and maggots.
    “You should keep the tail as a souvenir,” said the face.
    “I probably won’t,” I replied.
    To be fair, the face had been quiet through most of the process, letting me do my wretched work without behaving like an asshole.
    After mopping up the floor, I took the longest shower of my entire life, got dressed, loaded up my car with the garbage bags, and drove to the city dump. You weren’t supposed to dump animal remains there, but it’s not like anybody was X-raying the bags.
    Hmmmmm , I thought, as I drove home. Completely disposing of the lion like that has eliminated some of my proof that this really happened. I should have at least taken some pictures. If for any reason I need to convince the police that there was indeed a dead lion in my basement, I’m screwed.
    Again, I’m not trying to blame mind control tricks. I’m simply saying that to overlook this kind of detail wasn’t like me.
    I drove back home and went down into my basement.
    I hope the face is still there , I thought. I didn’t even consider that it was a weird thing to have thought, what with the whole “flesh, blood, and bone” aspect. The logical thing to think would be I sure hope that face is gone .
    The face was still there.
    “Hi,” I said.
    “Hello, Carlton.”
    “Lion’s gone.”
    “Good.”
    “Can I have a gold coin?”
    “No. That was not the arrangement. I still need to regain my power.”
    “I can’t bring you a dead body.”
    “I disagree.”
    “It’s not like I have access to a morgue or something. I do website design from home. Sort of. It’s more of a hobby. Some stocks really paid off a few years ago so I don’t really have to supplement my income. Where would I get a body?”
    “It is very simple. You start by finding a body that is alive. They are all over the place.”
    “I’m not killing anybody!”
    “Think it over.”
    “No!”
    “I am not rushing your decision. Take your time.”
    “You’re talking about murder!”
    “Is that problematic?”
    “Yes!”
    The face sighed. “I understand your hesitation. Usually when somebody asks you to kill for them, you have known each other longer.”
    “I’m not killing for you.”
    “All right.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes.”
    “Oh. Good.” I smoothed out my shirt. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
    “Not right now.”
    “What about a dog?”
    What the hell was I saying? I loved doggies! I’d walked out of movies where dogs died. Reading Where the Red Fern Grows as a kid had