Taking a deep breath, I shook my head slowly, carefully, because my head still ached like a mofo. “There’s a logical explanation for this,” I reasoned, though it sounded like I was bargaining with myself more than anything. My gaze dipped from the mirror and I stepped back. I couldn’t bear to look at the strange aberration protruding from my head a moment longer.
A black, dark nub had burst from that abscess looking thing no doctor in a hundred mile radius had wanted to touch. It’s fine, they kept saying, and then prescribed an antibiotic. One had even offered to refer me to a psychiatrist, going so far as to suggest I might be in need of an antidepressant. Grrr. I didn’t have anxiety or depression, you idiots, I wanted to snarl, I have a thing on my face—a very strange nub unearthed from it now—and I wanted answers. I wanted it gone. I wanted the ability to seamlessly blend in my plain lookin’ arse had reveled in before back. This wallflower was not loving all of the unwanted stares my startling facial problem had been garnering of late. I could only imagine what a god damned horn looking thing would get me. Tarred and feathered? Burned at the stake? Gah.
Snagging the bottle of ibuprofen I kept on the shelf in the bathroom on my way out, I paused, glancing towards my little furry copilot in life. “You’d never reject me if I grew a horn outta my damn head, would you, handsome?”
Cap popped up and came rushing after me, his tail wagging at his mistress’ call.
“Huh, mon Capitan? Et tu, Jean-Luc?” I asked, bending to run my fingers along the top of his bed head looking scruffy fluff.
Jean-Luc made a snortled, half reverse sneeze, snuffling noise—one of his happy sounds.
Forcing myself to straighten, grimacing as blood rushed back to my head, the angle putting way too much pressure on the ruptured... well, whatever it was, I opened the ibuprofen bottle and popped a few tablets into my mouth. Dry swallowing, shuddering at that lovely, bitter, chalky taste as one stuck going down, I detoured towards the kitchen for some water.
No, I thought, grabbing a glass of water and taking a huge gulp, refilling it and opening the fridge for a can of cold soda pop and one of several emergency Milky Way bars hidden under the vegetables in the crisper, this situation called for sugar, the good shit. Carbonation, corn syrup, and carbs. Going back to grab a few carrots for Cap, I set his treats on the end of the bed and plopped down by the headboard. Water glass on the nightstand, candy bar already half eaten before I’d even left the kitchen, I popped my soda open and took a long drink. Ah... now that’s the stuff.
Finishing my soda off, setting the empty can next to my half emptied water glass and candy wrapper, my head fell back with a heavy thunk against the thick wood at the head of the bed. Glancing at my alarm clock, I sighed heavily. Three in the morning. I could go to the emergency room... and pay a copay on top of whatever ridiculousness they wanted to charge me for rushing in all willy nilly for what they’d inevitably deem a non-emergency worthy of one of several urgent cares that were conveniently closed at this hour—super fun. Or, I could just wait it out until morning and try to get squeezed in for a same day appointment at whichever of the several dermatologists I’d seen these last few weeks could get me in.
A specialist, I needed one of those or something. Was it a disease?
Picking up my phone, I searched the internet for “horns growing out of body lumps”, “black nub sprouting from infected abscess”, “horn growing out of head.” By the time I’d finished every combo of words to search I could think off, the ibuprofen finally starting to kick in, I’d thoroughly horrified myself enough with what the interwebs had to offer me. None of it was even remotely close to this shit poppin’ up outta my forehead. Cringing inside and out, I’d be having nightmares for the rest of my days. I had to put the damned phone down and call it quits, shuddering involuntarily.
“Come on, Cap, my lil dude.” My hand patted the spot beside me and I slid beneath the covers. Snuggling down, I tucked the thick comforter up under my arms to flop my noodled limbs down onto the bed. “May we dream of telling Wesley to shut up, Q world domination, Riker owning his own bevy of babes, Data becoming a real boy, a whole bag of carrots for a certain chompy pup, and none of that wild schnitzel my web searching just hit me with, eh?” And may this all be some wild nightmare I wake up from when the alarm begins to bellow.
Twasn’t A Dream
“It looks like it grew!” I burst out, swiping my bangs away from my forehead, my palm pinning the top of my hair away from my face, holding it back. My groggy reflection, bags under my eyeballs, dark circles surrounding blue-grey hazel peepers—I’d totally seen much better days. Complexion a bit paler than its usual paper white with dark brown freckled familiarity, I looked a bit dragged through the hedge face first and then dumped in a very mucky pond. My face was looking a bit oilier than usual, my dark brown locks plastered to my head, limp and damp, sweat soaked.
Glancing toward the shower, I sighed heavily. No long soak for me today. With an appointment in about an hour, I’d have just enough time to call in to work, shower, get dressed, and run out the door.
My gaze found my reflection in the mirror again. “Please have an answer,” I muttered. My hand dropped and I closed my eyes. I was trying to be optimistic here, but it was hard when my head had a strange nub bursting forth from my freaking forehead at an alarming rate, my face damned hurt, and I was no closer to having any answers or possible solutions than I’d started out with.
“Nightmare,” I mumbled, shuffling my way to the shower. “Becoming a Unicorn... No, a narwhal,” I corrected, turning on the shower, testing the temperature, “I’m in the water. The uni-horn of the sea.” Stripping and stepping under the water’s spray, I shook my head. Putting shampoo into the palm of my hand, bringing it to my hair, I snorted. Laughter and snorts fought to choke me as emotions threatened to overwhelm. “I’m the coconut, cocoa butter scented monster from the deep!” My hand chose that moment to brush the thick ring of skin bunched up, surrounding the horn looking thing spiraling out of my head. “Ow! Damn it,” I fairly whined. Looked like this magical narwhal wouldn’t be trying to get stabby with anyone that pissed her off anytime soon. My half whimper as I gritted my teeth and the freakshow slowly moved the hands away from the facial deformity, like I was narrating some D grade horror show, had Cap pawing at the hot dogs in space themed vinyl shower curtain. “I know, man,” I muttered absently, “I know.”
I seriously hoped someone sincerely, honest to god actually knew freaking something about this madness, this time, I thought, blowing out a long breath. I felt like I might go mad otherwise. Or, you know, go full narwhal on someone’s ass. May the odds be in their favor...
Gimme The News, Doc
The doc leaned in closer, made a snotty sort of sniffling type noise, adjusting his glasses on his bulbous nose, and pulled back. “Hmm.”
That’s what he had to say about this? Hmm? Twenty minutes and he says hmm. That's it.
Blinking, eyes slowly starting to narrow, assuming what was about to come out of his blasted mouth, I muttered, “This ain’t fine. It’s not normal. If you send me out of here with another antibiotic I may well scream. This,” my finger jerked towards the gnarled black knob spiraling out of my head like a twisted broomstick end, almost coming to a point now at the tip, “is far removed from fine.”