Maybe you're bald, maybe not, maybe you care, likely not; stories here, some funny, some not.
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Monday, February 18, 2013
1/2 of Stanley - part 5 - the end
"He wants hair!?" Sidney screamed. He clutched the bed rail and shivered. "He doesn't even have a brain and he wants hair! He doesn't have eyes or cheeks or a god-damned mouth and he's still telling us..." The old man quaked. Veins in his neck pulsed and flexed and the flesh on his face jelly-rolled through a rainbow of horrific expressions, colors, ungodly contortions. Then, right before poor old sidney dropped dead, dead and quivering still - he got out the last couple of words that would finish him for good: "He wants a new hairdo!?" The sound of Sidney shattering from the inside out was audible. Darlene had an eyebrow up and the doctor, who looked more intrigued than startled, had to lift his glasses over his eyes to be certain he wasn't seeing things. He nearly spoke, but didn't. Darlene walked over and nudged her husbands corpse with the blunt toe of her left show. "Sidney?" The doctor knelt down beside the dead man and checked for a pulse, flipped an eyelid, and thoughtlessly thumped a thought out on Sidney's forehead with a pencil. "He has died," said the doctor. At that moment, Stanley began to burble. Burble and bubble. He swayed and grasped at the air around him and a thing gruel of bloody matter erupted from the fleshy mess at the top of him. "What's happening?" Screamed Darlene. "I don't know!" Exclaimed the doctor. "Do something!" Screamed Darlene. "But... But!!" Stammered the doctor, unsure of exactly what the emergency protocol might be when dealing with a patient with no head. More blood and phlem splattered about as Stanley began to swing about, left and then right and then back again. Darlene screamed some more and then screamed again. She took it all in, dead husband at her feet, her only son - she remembered a moment of pure pleasure, the infant smiling - now reduced to this unspeakable horror... Her shrieks increased until she found it impossible to shriek any longer. And when the doctor bound across the room to upright Stanly with one hand and poke a finger into his fleshy blow-hole with the other to stem the loss of blood, Darlene tripped over her dead husbands body and split her skull wide open on the cast iron lift mechanism at the foot if the bed. Darlene was dead before the doctor felt the quality of quivering that emanated from the orphaned boys body. It was not the quaking distress of choking. It wasn't the flailing of fear or terror. Not at all. The doctor withdrew his finger from Stanley's gullet and put a hand on the headless man's back. "You are laughing?" Whispered the doctor, horrified. "Evil through and through." Stanley flailed about until he found a sheet of paper. The doctor handed the headless man a pen. Stanley swayed over the sheet as he wrote. When he was finished he tossed the sheet into the air above his shoulders. The doctor pulled it out if the air. It said: Greedy people! Hated me. Wished me dead but wanted profit from this horror. Their son.... I want a head. Make me a head. Put hair on it! Don't get greedy. Stanley shook with joy. He was feeling better, much better indeed. The end