The morning came quickly and I awoke to a curious sensation. My nose felt stretched out as if a night demon might have pulled it out of shape or I had somehow got it caught in the laced frame of the headboard and, in my sleeping state, had extended it with several strong jerks. Either way, when I touched my nose, I noticed the tip was moist and spongy, very much like the taffy I had at last weekend’s fun fair. It was also bent toward my mouth, forcing the sides of my nostrils to make contact with one another, which, in turn, made it nearly impossible to breathe through it. The situation seemed most serious, so I rushed into the bathroom to examine my overnight deformity.
The mirror reflected an awful sight. My nose looked as though it had been made out of wax and the wax was melting. From the base of my cheeks all of the skin had been pulled forward. It immediately made me think of Pinocchio, but only if the wooden boy’s punishment for telling lies was to stick his fully protruding nose into a steaming hot sauna for an hour or two. As I stare more intently at my nose, pieces of its flesh began to drip into the sink. I panicked. I grabbed a towel and tried to stop the flow, but it only gathered the bits of skin as they came off. I tried various lotions from the medicine cabinet, but this did nothing but slow the rate of the flow (and make it quite goopy). In a final effort, I pulled my head back (much like you do when you have bloody nose) and before I could retract it, the dripping flesh slipped into my mouth. I gagged, but soon contained myself.
As the nose-flesh slid down my throat I experienced another curious sensation. It had the distinct flavor of salty, aged salami. It was amazing. I never would’ve thought that my own flesh would have such a pleasant taste. Titling my head back again, I let more to drip down my esophagus and it slipped down like butter (and garlic). It was incredible, utterly delicious. I could honestly say that I’ve never had anything tastier in my life. Immediately, I wanted more, but thought it best to save some for later. My nose wasn’t particularly large, so I knew there would be a limited supply.
Later that day I was watching the football game and the sensation came over me again. This time the fingers on my left hand were beginning to melt. This especially excited me since I hadn’t been able to resist the nose-flesh I had saved for tomorrow’s lunch and had gobbled it down to two big swallows. But this time I was going to do this meal right. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a knife, a fork, a napkin and a can of local craft beer. Sitting back in my recliner, I pulled the TV tray towards me. With my good hand I opened the beer and took it down with one swig. I then placed the deteriorating hand on the TV tray and sliced up my fingers into nice, little chunks. Stabbing one with a fork, I licked my lips wildly. I just couldn’t wait to taste each delectable morsel. The veins in my hand pulsated rapidly, encouraging me to dig right in. Despite
barely hesitating between chunks, I could still taste the salty sensation welling up in my mouth and the delicate force of each finger-chunk pulling against the walls of my internal organs as they went down.
What bliss. I couldn’t think of a more enjoyable way to spend the day. As I tried, an ever- broadening smile spread across my face.
It was in the midst of this reverie, the real horror of what was going on struck me. I would eventually run out of body parts to eat. Not to mention that I would naturally have to exclude my mouth, throat and digestive system from the menu. I tried desperately to think of ways around this. All the while the hunger was nibbling away at me. I had opened the door to one of life’s bitterest ironies and now found myself at a crossroads. Either way I turned would require sacrifice. I normally ignored those moments, but there I was. And I needed to decide quickly as that tingling sensation began to pulsate in my right foot.
There was nothing I could do, but remove my flip-flop and place my foot on the TV tray for butchering.