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Hello Earth
Written by J.J. Castagna
on March 23, 2005
A Short Story in "Body Parts"
jcastagna1@yahoo.com
www.buybooksontheweb.com
"Body Parts" is available at Buy Books on the Web site: ($14.95)
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Amazon.com link to purchase "Body Parts":
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November 10, 2004

Hotel Room

Las Vegas, Nevada

Hello Earth.

Pain…Pain…Lots of Pain.

Swoosh…nothing…pain gone…no pain. Screams…awaken!

Jim’s entire head screamed. An eye opening, shock jolted Jim’s soul. He impulsively, almost robotically, lurched his body up in the hotel room bed from which he had been so comfortably sleep entrenched. Jim shook his hairless head, grabbed a pillow and tucked it behind him along his back. He gently leaned his head against the headboard. The time on the digital clock read: 3:15 a.m.

Thoughts. Wow…what the hell was that? Whew…must be mental feedback lurking in these highly used, overly abused frontal lobes. What a dream…or more like a nightmare…what ever it was. The unusual and funny thing is…I do not remember anything…not a single viable thing about the nightmare. As a matter of fact, I have no idea what just happened. It freaked me out enough to immediately snatch my consciousness up out of a deep, absorbing slumber. One minute…I am sleeping the nice sleep and then, boom. It’s like suddenly Hello Earth! Pain…Screams…Awake! Whatever that was all about? But, nothing specific about the dream. No details come to mind…nothing…hmmm. I just cannot remember anything. No fear…no emotions…nothing. This is some serious creepy stuff. The mind is a terrible thing to waste unless your mind is already a terrible waste.

Jim climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom. He urinated, turned toward the sink, reached for the faucet and noticed he was missing his right pinky finger. Gone…bye…bye…missing...not there anymore!

He lifted up his right hand and held it in front of his face. No blood…no open, fleshy wound…no pain…nothing. The finger was completely gone, with just his usual human skin covering the area where the pinky finger should have been attached. Anatomically removed…except for the other three fingers and one thumb. He cautiously lifted up his left hand and clearly viewed that all of his fingers and his one thumb were exactly where they should have been. His left hand was fine but he was missing his right pinky finger. Fear smiled and silently crept into Jim’s brain.

Thoughts. Where the heck is my finger? What in the world is going on? I have always had both my pinky fingers. I was born with all of my stubby-ass fingers, fat thumbs, and awkwardly squishy toes. So where did this one friggin’ pinky go to? Oh…man-oh-man…my mom is sure going to be really angry about this whole no pinky thing…yup…someone is going to pay. Because when it comes to messing with little Jimmy…my momma just don’t play!

Jim slowly dropped his head down and inspected his toes. He counted out each toe silently in his head.

Thoughts. One…two…three…four…five. Whew…the toes are good…the toes are good. But…the pinky finger…what’s up with the damn pinky finger? Where the hell is my pinky? I have always had my pinky finger…my whole life. No hand surgeries and no freak accidents in my youth. No recent injuries or sudden disasters of my anatomy. I want my pinky…my poor missing pinky. Where and who has my pinky?

Panic stricken, Jim walked back into the bedroom and picked up the glass of water on the nightstand next to the bed. He swallowed some water, sat on the bed, and tucked a pillow behind him with his back toward the headboard. Jim looked at the clock. The digital glow on the clock read: 3:20 a.m.

Swoosh…Hello Earth.

Pain…Pain…Lots of Pain.

Swoosh…nothing…pain gone…no pain. Screams…Awaken!

Once again, Jim is cleanly jolted awake from his sleep…dream…nightmare. Is it a nightmare? Jim was lying prone in the bed, inside of the same hotel room, with the blanket up to his neck, covering his whole body. Jim sat up and tried to swing his legs over the mattress edge in an attempt to stand up but he could not. His left leg would not move. It appeared or felt as if his leg did not exist or that something was holding or preventing his left leg from moving. Jim snatched the blanket and threw it off of the bed and onto the floor. Jim viewed his lower body. He has only one leg…the right leg! His entire left leg was missing…gone…bye…bye. The realization was that Jim’s left leg had somehow and suddenly evaporated from existence. Below his left hip was an empty space where his left leg used to be…should be…but not anymore. The fabric from his underwear was loosely hanging down into the empty void of where his leg should have been. He separated the fabric where his leg should have been. Nothing…nada…emptiness…all gone…no leg! Once again, there weren’t any signs of human blood, flesh chunks, or bloodstains. His own skin was covering the lower hip area where his left leg should be. His skin was a perfect fit and looked normal and natural. It was as if Jim had never been born with his left leg. His leg had disappeared, as if somehow anatomically removed…uncreated…as if it never existed…never was. Somehow his left leg had escaped into a fantasy world of lost body parts!

Thoughts. Lock me up and throw away the key…what in Marvin the Martian’s antenna is going on? Take me to your leader. Hello Earth. This is not right…something is seriously not right. How is it possible? One minute, I have a pinky…bingbadabing…pinky gone! The next minute, I have a left leg…shazaam…left leg gone! Is my mind playing tricks on me? Am I demented, delusional, or having a nervous breakdown or psychoticepisode? Is Mr. Psychotic having a family picnic in my brain? Are my meds wearing off and the real world has suddenly returned? Reality has finally returned to open my eyes to my true existence? Hello…welcome to my world. I must be on a visit to Elm Street and my good friend, Freddy Krueger is dropping by for an unexpected nightmarish visit? Hey honey…I have a friend coming over for dinner…no need to put out any knives. Hehehehehe. I am literally falling to pieces both inside and out. Reminds me of a song…how does it go…oh, I know.

Jim begins to hum an old remembered song from the early days of his childhood when he would listen to his mother’s nostalgic records on an old-fashioned turntable.

Thoughts. I fall to pieces…do do do do…I fall to pieces. Hehehehehe.

Jim reached for the hotel telephone. Jim’s plan was to call the front desk and have them send for medical help…or maybe psychological help. With the telephone up to his ear, Jim dialed 0 and waited. Nothing. Jim redialed. Nothing. Jim hung up the phone and, once again, lifted it toward his ear and listened for a dial tone. Nothing. No dial tone…no ring…nothing…dead space. Frustrated, Jim hung up the phone.

Thoughts. Damn…the phone must be out of order. Now what…wait…I could use my cell phone and call for help. That’s it…get the cell phone and call for help. Surely, I will have service on my cell phone. Where did I put the cell phone…hmmm…there it is…on the table next to the window on the other side of the room. If I could just somehow bounce my way over to the table, then I could get my cell phone. Okay…let’s see…hmmm.

Jim swung his right leg onto the floor, grabbed the edge of the mattress and attempted to hoist himself up. He held onto the nightstand and deftly balanced himself on one leg. Now what? Jim tried to let go of the nightstand, but he could not balance himself on one leg. Every time he released his hand, he began to shift and wobble back and forth. It was very difficult to maintain any level of balance and also to try to move at the same time.

Thoughts. Weebles wobble… but they don’t fall down.

Jim knew that if he could hop and make his way over to the cell phone, which was sitting on the table across the room, near the window, without falling or hurting himself, he could call 911 for help. He released his hand from the nightstand one more time, balanced, bent his leg and made a feeble attempt to make a little hop over to the table. Not today…my one legged friend. Boom…Jim went crashing to the carpeted floor of the hotel room. The legless, awkward looking Jim laid motionless on the floor like a broken doll that recently had its left leg ripped off and discarded somewhere at the bottom of an old toy chest.

Thoughts. Ouch…ouch…double ouch. Someone once told me a joke about someone in a one-legged butt-kicking contest. Let’s see…how did the joke go again? I cannot remember…but the stupid joke just does not seem so friggin’ funny right about now. Ha...ha…he…he! We are all laughing now. What the heck is going on? This whole thing is absolutely ridiculous. I am lying on the floor, missing a pinky finger and a left leg…like a G.I. Doll or Ken Doll with missing body parts. Who the heck dealt me this screwed up hand. I know I am in Las Vegas and the odds are tough but…wow…come on…enough is enough. I did not realize the ante was body parts in this bizarre game from hell…these are sure tough house rules. Time to fire my travel agent!

Jim looked toward the digital readout on the nightstand clock.

Thoughts. Hello, handicap parking spaces…it is 3:25 a.m. and…

Swoosh…Hello Earth.

Pain…Pain…Lots of Pain.

Swoosh…nothing…pain gone…no pain. Screams…Awaken!

Jim was, once again, in his hotel room, lying on his mattress with the blanket up to his neck completely covering his body. With much effort, Jim tried to sit up and put his back to the headboard, but was having an extremely difficult time scooting up. He could not get any leverage. He could not get his leg to shift his weight upward. He grabbed a hold of the blanket and pulled it away from his body. What Jim saw really freaked him out and sent an instantaneous wave of insanity surging through his puzzle piece body. Both of Jim’s legs were gone! The were both missing. Adios…see ya’! Bye…bye…departed…dissipated…just plain gone. All that was left of him were two arms, a head, and a body stump. Now the bad news, my fellow Americans.

Thoughts. Oh yes…the bad news…really bad news. Ground control to Major Tom. Commencing countdown, engines on… Time to hide the women and children…this could get ugly!

Shock…more shock…despair…confusion…horror. Hello, hypnotic trance…why me…why me? What Jim saw next sent him into an elevated emotional and psychological state of total and extreme madness. If sanity were a high wire act, Jim would be walking that wire five hundred feet in the air without a safety net.

Now…the bad news. Not only was Jim missing both of his two legs, but his entire male genitalia were no longer intact. Extinct…not around…gone away. Once again, it was the surreal and hypnotic feeling that he had never been born with any legs, pinky finger, or male genitals.

Thoughts. May the force be with you, my young Jedi. This is impossible. This could not possible be happening. No way…no friggin’ way. Something is definitively not right about this whole crazy experience. Someone has got to be messing with my head. Maybe I was slipped a mickey or drugged and I am now in some sort of hallucinogenic head-trip. This must be a dream…a very unusual and weird surreal dream, bordering on the edge of a psychotic nightmare. I will just wake myself up. Yup…that’s right…just wake my sorry butt up from this shock fest of a nightmare and get back to my boring little comfortable existence. A nice little pinch in the arm will do. Yup…time to wake up, Jimbo. I need to wake up and get out of this wacked-out annoying dream that is trying to drive me crazy. Hello Earth…Daddy is coming home. Time to warm up the hot cocoa…

Jim reached over his legless body with his right arm, and with his pinky-less right hand, he grabbed a piece of skin with his fingers and firmly pinched himself as hard as he could. A red mark appeared where Jim had pinched himself.

Thoughts. Ouch…that hurts…okay. I must be awake or I have a really high tolerance for nightmare pain. Now, that’s some stupid stuff…who ever heard of nightmare pain? Is there such thing as nightmare pain? It is painful to be in a nightmare or is the nightmare the actual pain? It pains me to think about this whole weird world I am trapped in. If I were to define nightmare pain, I would say that it is the subconscious fear that jolts you awake and makes the adrenaline surge to cause the heart to beat faster which sends a shock to the brain and the core of your very soul. It is as if you feel aware and awake but are also confused and disassociated with reality. Funny thing…nightmare pain. Is it possible to have pain in a nightmare? Maybe…mental pain, but can you feel physical pain in a nightmare? The funny thing is, I do not feel any pain. My pinky and legs are gone, and surprisingly, I have not felt any physical pain outside of the unusual feeling nightmare pain every time I get warped into some sort of nightmarish wormhole or what ever you want to call it. Wow…this is some serious psychobabble going on. I must be severely delusional. Oh yes, my fellow high flying corporate accountants of the universe. Welcome to my world…nightmare pain and all. Calm down, Jim…calm down. Now, take a deep breath and try to figure this thing out. You are a smart, educated man…so think…think. There has to be a logical reason why this is happening. Replay what has happened so far. There must be some logical pattern to this nightmarish hellhole or dream wormhole that you have become caged in. Start at the beginning…yes…the beginning. Let’s see, I awoke at 3:15 a.m.

Jim looked over at the clock and the time read: 3:29 a.m.

Thoughts. Okay…I awoke at 3:15 a.m., which was about fifteen minutes ago and I have somehow been warped inside of this nightmare region and, in return, I am progressively losing my body parts. Let’s see, I have lost my pinky finger, and then my left leg disappeared, and finally my right leg has gone on vacation along with my long lost genitalia. I hope they are enjoying each other’s company. Hehehehe.

Thoughts. Let’s do the math. I can remember my 3 rd grade teacher saying it was okay to use your fingers to help you count because your fingers are like mini-calculators. Well…my right hand calculator is kind of on the fritz…I will have to bring it to the body shop…hahahaha…nice one…bring it to the body shop. Good one, Jim…good one. Body shop…hehehehehehe! Okay…okay…back to the math. Let’s see, I have had three body part removals. So, in fifteen minutes, I have lost three body parts. There have been three body detachments in a total of fifteen minutes, which would be a body part every five minutes. Which, if my hypothesis is correct, at 3:30 a.m., I should drop another body part. Let’s wait and see if my theory is correct.

Jim turned his head and intensely stared at the digital readout from his clock. The time read: 3:29 a.m.

Thoughts. Tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…

Jim’s eyes never left the clock readout as the numbers changed from 3:39 a.m. to 3:30 a.m.

Swoosh…Hello Earth.

Pain…Pain…Lots of Pain.

Swoosh…nothing…pain gone…no pain. Screams…Awaken!

Jim found himself, once again, lying in the hotel bed with the blanket up to his neck. His eyes were firmly entranced on the clock that read: 3:30 a.m.

Thoughts. I knew it. There is a pattern. A big thanks to all of my math teachers. They would be so proud of me. Hehehehehehehe. Let’s see…every five minutes…one-body part. But how? Why? There has to be a logical reason for what has been happening to me. I need to take a quick minute…dang…before you know it all of my minutes will be gone, and before you know it, I will have disintegrated into nothing. Zero…gone…history. A big giant no-existent empty Jim space…hehehehehe.

Jim attempted to move his left hand over to the nightstand to get the glass of water but nothing happened. He was mentally telling his arm to move and to reach for the water glass but still no movement. With his right arm, Jim slid the blanket down to reveal an empty space where his left arm should have been. Another limb had been removed during the weird, warping, wormhole effect. All that remained of Jim was a legless body stump, without a left arm, a pinky less right arm, no legs, and his baldhead. His arm and leg limbs were systematically disappearing from his body. He was a puzzle with missing puzzle pieces…destined to never be completed. Just put me back into the puzzle box and just leave me be!

Thoughts. I must be stuck in some sort of dream world or nightmare region. You know, like from the ‘Twilight Zone’, ‘Outer Limits’, or ‘One Step Beyond’ or possibly ‘Tales of the Crypt’. It is as if any second now, I will be hearing the hysterical whinny cackle of the Cryptkeeper. My mom loved that stuff and I would often sit up late at night with her watching ‘Twilight Zone’ marathons, we would watch episode after episode. She also adored the “Tales of the Darkness” stories. Right now, this is what it feelslike…as if I am stuck in a ‘Tales of the Crypt’ marathon on the science fiction channel with commercials of my reality sprinkled in for the viewers’ entertainment. Geez…what some people will do for high ratings…hehehehehehehehehe.

Thoughts. Okay…let’s eliminate this whole dreamy wormhole and nightmare thing and ensure that I am really awake. I need something more creative then a pinch on the arm. I know…let me punch myself in the face. If I do not wake up from that then I will probably never wake up and will remain trapped in this nightmarish hell forever. A nice punch in the face should do the trick. Okay, here goes. One…two…three!

Jim tried to scoot up and balance himself so he could get some good leverage to punch himself in the face, but it was very difficult without any legs and only one arm. With his head firmly lying on the pillow, Jim took his right pinky less hand and violently punched himself as hard as he could three quick times in the face…boom…boom…boom.

Thoughts. Owwwwww…I guess I am awake! I am like Sponge-Bob Squarepants trapped in cartoon hell. Wow…now I really feel stupid.

Jim’s eyes watered from the sting of the blows on his cheek, jaw and nose. He glanced over toward the clock and the time of 3:32 a.m. was clearly displayed.

Thoughts. What kind of a complete flippin’ idiot am I right now? I am losing my friggin’ mind as I lay here on this bed with no legs, no sexual organs, one arm and a head…and, I ask you…what am I doing. Come on, people…three guesses. Wrong…wrong…wrong! Do not pass go - do not collect two hundred dollars. I will tell you what I am doing. I am thinking about Sponge Bob Squarepants cartoons and literally smackin’ myself as hard as I can on my face, like some friggin’ imbecile on a freaked-out lost episode of ‘Twilight Zone’ or ‘Outer Limits’. There is nothing wrong with your televisions. There is no need to adjust your televisions. The force is strong in this one, Yoda. All is well…in the psycho-world of Mr. Jim. Beam me up, Scottie. Won’t you be my neighbor!

Psychosis continues to creep into Jim’s already deranged mind.

Thoughts. Get it together…Jim. Get it together. Maybe if I could roll off of the bed and try to flop or shimmy my way to the front door and roll out into the hotel hallway. I am sure someone would see me…help me…wake me…pull me from this nightmarish purgatorial hellhole. Maybe the pattern will stop…maybe…if I had some help. If I could just rock back and forth and back and forth…maybe, just maybe, I can flop onto the carpet and roll toward the door.

The time on the clock read: 3:33 a.m. With the help of his right hand, Jim shimmied and squirmed his way to the edge of the bed and dropped his legless body stump to the carpeted floor…thump.

Thoughts. Now, that wasn’t too bad. Okay…I have about two minutes to get to the door and signal for help. Hurry, Jim…come on, buddy…scoot…scoot…hurry. You can do it…come on. Two minutes…two minutes. If I can turn my body with my arm behind me, I should be able to slide and scoot over to the door. The distance looks to be about twelve feet to the door. Okay, Jim…you can do it. Scoot, Jim! Scoot…hurry…hurry. Time is ticking…ticking…ticking.

Jim shifted his legless and single armed body stump so as to have his left side of his body toward the door, as he put his right arm behind him and pushed and slid his body almost effortlessly across the carpeted floor.

Thoughts. Lift…push…slide! Lift…push…slide. Yes, it’s working…it’s working. Come on…Jim. Almost…scoot. Hurry…hurry. Almost to the door…hurry…time…hurry.

Lift…push…slide. Finally, Jim’s body stump touched the door of his hotel room.

Thoughts. Okay…I have to reach the door handle. I can do it if I can get my hand up to the doorknob. But how will I be able to balance my body so I can get a grip on the knob?

Jim took his right hand and put it on the back of his right hip and with his body wedged on the wall next to the door, Jim pushed his hip and was able to get his chest parallel to the door, with his face literally smashed into the wall. The smell of old paint filled his nostril holes. He released his right hand from his hip and quickly thrust his hand upward toward the doorknob. He touched the door handle but was not able to get his fingers around the knob, especially missing the deftly used pinky finger. He tried again…missed…again…

Thoughts. Yes…yes…I have the doorknob. Now turn the handle…hurry…time is running out…hurry. Turn it…turn it.

Jim turned the doorknob, and at about the same time, he managed to pull open the door, he pushed his body away from the door so as not to have his body in the way so he could get the door to slightly swing open. It worked. The door opened. It was wedged open about two inches, which gave him enough room to get his fingers through the opening so he could swing open the door. Jim shifted and twirled his body around, reached his pinky less right hand into the opening and pulled open the hotel door. The door to room 13B opened. Jim attempted to roll out into the hallway of the hotel but there wasn’t any hotel hallway to roll into. It was gone. There was a big black empty void…just space…no carpet…no furniture…no hotel. Zero…just total emptiness. Jim was staring into an empty, dead zone of nothingness. Shock surged his body…more shock replaced that shock.

Thoughts. Tricks are for kids - you silly rabbit…hehehehehehehe!

Swoosh…Hello Earth.

Pain…Pain…Lots of Pain.

Swoosh…nothing…pain gone…no pain. Screams…Awaken!

Once again, Jim found himself lying on the hotel mattress with the blanket pulled up to his neck. He turned his head to the clock. The time read: 3:35 a.m.

Thoughts. Hello, boys and girls…it is time for the next episode of your favorite early morning show…”Guess What Body Part is Missing?” I will give you three guesses. Head? No. Try again, loser. Body? No. Your final answer, bozo. Ears…no! Someone get this idiot out of the friggin’ studio before I rip his imbecilic head clean off of his shoulders. Man…where do they get these game show contestants? Now…a word from our sponsors…Body Stumps-R-Us…hehehehehe.

Jim tried to move his right arm but to no avail, as he did not have a right arm.

Thoughts. Body Stump. All that is left of me is a body stump with a baldhead. What a sight I must be! No legs, no arms, no sexual organs…just a large body stump with a head. Hi…my friends call me, ‘Stumpy’. I would shake your hand if I had one…tell you what…just shake my tongue. Here ya’ go…shake away. So nice to meet you. Sorry about all of the slobber…bad habit for a stump, wouldn’t you say? Bad stumpy…bad stumpy.

The clock read: 3:36 a.m.

Thoughts. Welcome to my tormented soul! I feel like a bizarre biological frog specimen, as it is slowly and methodically getting sliced and diced up by some insane, invisible, sadistic hand from hell. What happens next…my nose…my ears…my whole head? Will it every stop? Will this purgatorial hellhole or wormhole ever end? Just call me Stumpy. Mr. Stumpy…the tormented stump of insanity and lunacy.

With glazed and insane eyes, Jim dropped his chin, tucked his mouth under the blanket, bit a piece of the fabric, and dragged the cloth toward the right side of his body. He did this several times until he had finally pulled the blanket off of his body. Jim looked at his body stump, which was all that remained of him.

Thoughts. There are many words to describe the body stump…odd, abnormal, bizarre, grotesque, repulsive, distorted, hideous, or deformed. A stump with a head…wow…welcome to my world! The stump man is here…let’s get this party started. Come and meet my little friend!

The time reads 3:39 a.m. on the clock. Jim’s insanity levels increased as the psychosis maliciously toyed with his brain, as if it were its own private playroom.

Thoughts. Who am I? Hehehehehe… I am Stumpy…the experimental dissected stump…an unwitting lab specimen somehow trapped in a hellous experiment, designed by an invisible psychotic deviant from the depths of a delusional purgatorial torture chamber. Some evil force must be creating this nightmarish environment for the sole purpose of tormenting poor lost soulful human creatures. What else could it be?

Thoughts. The force is strong in this one, Yoda. Whoever is doing this to me can come here and kiss my stumpy butt…well at least up until it completely disappears…hehehehehehe.

The clock changed to 3:40 a.m.

Swoosh…Hello Earth.

Pain…Pain…Lots of Pain.

Swoosh…nothing…pain gone…no pain. Screams…Awaken!

Jim could not move his head, because he did not have a neck that would allow Jim to be able to swivel his head around. No neck meant - no body stump. The body stump was gone. All that remained of Jim was a well-rounded baldhead sitting idly on the hotel pillow all by itself.

Thoughts. I am a head! An alive…awake…seeing head. Let me repeat myself. I am a head. Seeing, hearing, smelling head like some deranged Mr. Potato Head on a hallucinogenic bad trip through a soul-screaming hell-hole created by a demonic minion on a visit from its deep dark sadistic underworld. Goodbye Mr. Stumpy…hello Mr. Demonic Potato Head. Welcome to my maniacal and insanity driven doomed-filled damnation world. This is my horrendous existence. Hehehehehehe.

In his madness, Jim begins to hum to himself.

Thoughts. I fall to pieces…do do do… How did I end up as a pinky-less, legless, armless, sexless, deformed body stump? I wonder how much time is left before I become nothing…non-existent…extinct…an extinguished potato head from hell. Unfortunately, my dear psychotic friends, I cannot turn my friggin’ potato head. And do you know why…because I have no neck!. Life sucks. Hehehehehehe. Where is my body stump? I miss my body stump so much. Where is the stumpy when you need one? Stump this!

The time read 3:41 a.m.

Thoughts. But Captain, the lithium crystals are failing. If only someone could turn off this demonic channel from this psychotic and deranged lost episode of ‘Tales of the Crypt’ gone seriously bad. Thank you for watching! Time for the credits. Commercials are sponsored by…Chicken and Stumplings Soup…the new and improved Stump Wax…and also by, Stump Glue to keep your favorite stumpy from falling apart. Get your stumps coffee at Stumpbucks. Hehehehehehehe. Finally, our last sponsor is from Stumps-R-Us, a specialty toyshop carrying toys and games for the wonderful body stumps of the world. Stumps need play time too. Stumps need love too. Stumps of the world unite! Hehehehehehe.

Lunacy continues to have its effect on Jim’s mind.

Thoughts. Hello, everyone. My name is Jim. This is my first stump meeting. I am a stumpaholic. Hello Jim! Hehehehehehehe. This is your brain. This is your brain on drugs. Any questions for the maniacal Mr. Potato Head who is coming straight to you from the wonderful world of Stumpyville.

The time read 3:42 a.m.

Thoughts. Come and get me…Mr. Devil. I can feel ya’ waiting. Come and get me! You can sure try, Mr. Devil but let me warn you. This is not the best of days to be messing with the Headman. Oh, no…not good at all. Mr. Potato Head is not having a good day. You see…Mr. Potato Head is feeling slightly irritated and a little psychotic right now. I pity your devil-butt, or anybody else’s butt, who wants to step in the ring with the crazy stumpless head of raging fury. I, Mr. Demonic Potato Head will fight to the death…oh yes…I will viciously bite and rip your stupid, ugly nose right off of your stupid, ugly devil face. So bring it on, Big D…because Mr. Head is not going to go down without a fight. This is not going to be easy on you, Devil-man. Bring it on!

Jim stared at the ceiling, while his turbulent mind waged a continuous war between sanity and madness. The clock indicated the time as 3:43 a.m.

Thoughts. I just do not understand what is going on here? Earlier when I rolled to the door and opened it…there was a black void…nothingness. Why? What happened to the hallway…the hotel? Where did it go? Logically, I must still be trapped in this ‘Twilight Zone’ nightmare. What else could it be? Unless…the Devil was having playtime hour with my tormented soul and my missing body parts. Whatever the heck is going on…I wish it was over…done.

The digital clock rolled to 3:44 a.m.

Thoughts. I wonder how much time is left. What happens from here? Will I disappear into nothing? Will I remain a bodiless head? That would be horrible if I remained a head for the rest of my life. Boy-oh-boy, I can hear all the jokes now. Jim’s a real headache…hehehehehehe. Or…Jim is head-over-heels in love…yuck…yuck. Or…let’s head over to Jim’s place…hehehehehe. Or…Jim is going to be heading out of town. Really funny…yup…I will be the head of the class…hehehehehe. I would be a freak show for the next episode of ‘Ripley’s Believe it or Not”. Hey…let’s flip Jim…choose heads or tails. Heads…Jim is insane…Tails…Jim is still insane. This sucks…come on time…do your thing…the Potato Head of Hell has had enough. Come on…Mr. Devil…let’s head down the elevator to the torture chamber of the eternal dark abyss…hehehehehehe. Nightmare wormhole…take me away!

The time rolled over to 3:45 a.m.

Swoosh…Awake.

The charter plane was violently rocking back and forth. The lights inside the plane flickered on and off. Sparks flew and lightning flashed brightly as the tiny airplane swayed and rolled its way through the turbulent air. The forceful storm brutally tossed the plane about as if it was being controlled by a little child playing with his new toy airplane and ready to crash it to the ground.

The plane’s intercom loudly roared, as the pilot calmly informed the passengers that the plane was about to crash, “Everyone, please stay calm and brace yourself…we are going to attempt a crash landing.”

Realization hit the startled Jim like a ton of fat ladies thundering hungrily toward an all-you-can-eat buffet table. Jim’s stomach lurched as the plane made a quick and sudden descent toward the Earth below.

Thoughts. What in the world is going on? One minute, I am a bodiless head on a pillow in a Las Vegas hotel room and then…boom…I am in a spiraling airplane headed to Earth on a downward course toward a crash landing. I must have fallen asleep and this whole episode was just a mild dream…a nightmare. Is this real or am I still caught in this hellish delusional nightmare?

Jim looked around, as his memory suddenly returned, and was able to recollect that he was a corporate accountant headed to a National Accountants Convention held annually in Las Vegas, Nevada. Glancing around the interior of the plane, Jim noticed he was one of twenty passengers. Jim was the only passenger seated in the rear of the plane. He could see the worried look on the other passengers’ faces as they desperately awaited their fates. One passenger was praying loudly, “Our Father, who art in Heaven…”

Jim made sure his seatbelt was securely attached. He turned his attention toward his plane window. Jim nervously viewed the outside world as the plane quickly began its descent. He could see the Earth getting closer and closer as the plane continued its downward path toward the ground below. The plane violently jerked as the right side propeller began to sputter and smoke. Jim’s stomach lurched as the plane dipped toward the right and went into a dead freefall. A passenger screamed. Jim could see that the left propeller was still operating and spinning at a very high velocity. The pilot was able to partially straighten out the plane but it was still dropping at a high rate of speed. The plane continued to bob and weave as it fought its way downward through the turbulent atmosphere.

Thoughts. Isn’t this the time were the flight attendant tells you to put your head between your legs and brace for impact. Why do we put our heads between our legs anyway? I know why…so we can kiss our butt goodbye one last time. Goodbye butt-cheeks…it has been nice knowing you. See ya’ around…Hehehehehehehe.

Looking below, all that could be seen were trees…lots of trees. Jim hoped the pilots could find a clearing so they could attempt to easily put the plane down on the ground without slamming into any of the trees. The trees got closer and closer. The Earth below got closer and closer. Jim could see a small clearing up ahead and the pilots bravely fought the little aircraft as they attempted to steer the broken plane in the direction of the clearing. Jim hoped, that with luck, the airplane would cleanly miss all the upcoming trees and safely crash land in the clearing ahead.

Thoughts. Well…this is it! The time of reckoning is upon me. I hope I have led a good life and that I still have some good karma left…because right now…I am desperately in need of all the good karma the world can give to me. I need some serious help in getting out of the giant turd storm I am currently trapped in.

Jim could hear the mechanisms of the landing gear dropping down. The aircraft dipped left and right, as the pilots attempted to straighten the plane out for the rough landing. The aircraft hit the ground at a violently high rate of speed. The plane bounced and began to turn sideways in an uncontrollable slide across the grassy clearing.

Thoughts. Hello Earth…

The out of control airplane slammed into a large tree causing the plane’s right wing to break off. The spinning propeller snapped off of the wing and flew straight up into the air. Screams filled the inside of the airplane, as the rear end of the airplane tore itself completely in half. Jim’s seat was ripped from the bolts holding it to the plane flooring. The seat was launched from the rapidly disintegrating aircraft. Still attached to the seat, with the seatbelt firmly in place, Jim’s seat tumbled and turned, as he was flung and slammed across the ground in the opposite direction of the crash. Pieces of the tattered plane flew in all directions.

Bruised and battered, Jim quickly unbuckled the seat belt and rolled from the seat which had aided him in surviving the crash and ground impact. Uninjured, Jim quickly stood up.

Swoosh…swoosh…swoosh…

Thoughts. What is that noise? Oh…damn…just my luck…!

Shocked, the dazed Jim looked skyward. The right propeller, that was originally attached to the right wing, and had been thrust upward into the air on the initial impact with trees and ground was now spinning quickly downward toward the doomed accountant like some insane Ted Bundy Frisbee on a weekend murder spree. The rapidly spinning propeller forcefully and brutally slammed into Jim’s body and sent the sliced and diced body parts in all directions. Blood spurted upward and outward. The blood finally settled, covering the surrounding trees and grass like some nightmarish Picasso painting from hell.

The area was littered with body parts, airplane pieces, tree branches, luggage and various types of debris. The smell of fuel filled the air. Several fires were burning, as the early morning blue sky was replaced by cruel black smoke.

There were no survivors.

***************************************

November 10, 2004

5:45 a.m.

Outskirts of Houston, Texas – Crash Site

Dawn approached, as the ensuing sunlight bravely fought the early morning fog in an attempt to light up the horizon’s sky. The crash site was a frenzied area of activity as the firefighters bravely extinguished the scattered flames. Paramedics searched the wreckage for survivors. Federal Aviation Administration officials were encircled at a makeshift command post in a discussion as to a viable reason for the aircraft accident. The black box had already been recovered and sent to the F.A.A. headquarters for immediate investigation and evaluation. A media center area was roped off for the enclave of newscasters rushing to the accident scene, eager for a breaking news story. Police lights filled the air with blue and red colors, as members of the coroner’s office laid out empty body bags so they could begin the gruesome task of collecting the various cadavers and dead body parts for identification and subsequent notification to next of kin.

Each area of the accident scene was methodically sectored off, multi-angled pictures were taken, and all debris, including dead bodies, were meticulously inventoried in a detailed report. F.A.A. officials systematically labeled and accounted for each and every piece of the downed aircraft.

Once the Fire and Police Departments and the F.A.A. officials had safely cleared a sectored area, the coroner technicians were then able to begin the ghastly removal of the bloody and gruesome body remains.

Jack Green and Slade Williams were technicians for the Houston Coroners Office. They were assigned the horrific and grisly job of collecting the corpses, as well as the gathering of the various dismembered and severed body parts. Once collected, they were to be delivered to the Houston City Morgue.

The section labeled 13B of the accident scene had been roped off by yellow tape. In large bold letters, the words on the yellow tape stated: “DO NOT CROSS * POLICE LINE”.

The technicians approached sector 13B. An unusual sight awaited their arrival. A propeller was sticking straight up, perpendicular and vertical to the ground. One of the fan blades of the propeller was imbedded into the ground. The entire propeller was undamaged. Huge splatterings of blood covered each and every one of the large fan blades. There was blood everywhere. At first sight, it looked like a town square fountain with a propeller sculpture on display in the middle of a crimson sea of bright red liquid. Behind the propeller was a slightly dented and scratched airplane passenger seat.

If that was not bad enough, scattered around the propeller were various dismembered body parts. Jack Green, a fifteen-year veteran of the coroner’s office, had seen many gory and unusual scenes but this was a first in his book.

Quickly surveying the scene, he made note of the locations of two isolated arms, two detached legs and what appeared to be a bloody and decapitated head leaning against a tree. Jack glanced over at his co-worker, Slade Williams, who was blankly staring at a gruesome and bloody body stump from where the arms, legs, and head had been cleanly sliced off of by the propeller. Unmoving, Slade stood outside the yellow tape, his mouth wide open in shock.

Jack lifted the yellow tape and slowly walked into ghastly and horrid area. He directed his attention toward the blood-splattered hairless head. The eyes on the bodiless head were wide open and looking upward. At first sight, Jack thought the gory head was looking right at him but, on closer inspection, it showed that the dead man was looking up toward the early morning sky…seeing…searching.

From behind him, Jack heard Slade question, “What do you think happened to this dude? He is well over a hundred yards from the main crash site. All of the other dead bodies, pilots included, are scattered around the cockpit area.”

Without looking up from the dead man’s stare, Jack explained to Slade his perspective on the existing situation, “Well…it’s really quite obvious.”

Pointing, Jack continued with his explanation, “See that wing poking into the tree, about hundred and fifty yards away, with the back half of the airplane next to it. Well, that is where the airplane made the initial impact with the ground and the tree. This resulted in the wing being torn off and also caused the plane to buckle and rip in two. The front of the plane, cockpit included, continued its momentum forward and eventually slowed down to where it is sitting right now, which is roughly a hundred yards away from us.”

With very little enthusiasm in his voice, Slade replied, “That’s all good but how does it explain what happened here?” Slade gestured toward the propeller sticking out of the ground.

“It looks as if when the plane ripped in half, the bolts snapped on the passenger seat, causing the passenger to be ejected from the airplane. There is very little damage to the seat so it must have shielded our guy from the rumbling and tumbling he took once he got tossed from the broken plane,” Jack said.

“How come his body parts are scattered all over the place if he survived the plane wreck?” asks the curious Slade.

“Now, that is the weird and freaky part of the equation,” interjects the veteran Jack, who gestured toward the passenger seat. “You see...the seat belt is not broken. So, our guy here, must have released himself from the seat, and stood up. He would have been one lucky son-of-a-gun and possibly the sole survivor of this fatal crash…except for one minor thing.”

“What is that?” questions Slade.

“The propeller...”Jack gestures toward the artistic looking propeller propped up in a puddle of dull red blood.

Unspeaking, both technicians gaze toward the propeller. Slade is the first to break the silence, “And…?”

“It appears as if the wing’s impact with the tree caused the propeller to fly up into the air like an Olympic disc on a world record breaking toss. Apparently the force allowed the propeller to remain in flight for several seconds until its momentum could no longer keep it afloat and it rapidly dropped to the earth. Unfortunately, this was fatal for our doomed passenger who was directly in the path of the falling propeller as it sliced and diced him up like a deranged sushi knife on a late night psychotic infomercial.” Jack chuckled at his explanation of the mishap.

Slade was not smiling. “Oh, dude…what a horrible way to die. I mean…think about it. This guy has the incredible luck of surviving a fatal plane crash, only to be ripped apart by a wayward propeller blade. What tough luck is that?”

“At least he did not suffer,” says Jack. “In an accident of this type, the nerves and spinal cord are instantly severed; causing just a millisecond of pain…then all pain is gone. It is a painless death with no suffering. I have a friend of mine that is a research scientist who happens to study electrical brain patterns of the dying and dead at the University of Houston. Based on his studies, he strongly feels that all brains are still electrically alive, for about 30 minutes, even after death or detachment from the spinal cord. He tells me that our brains have mini-electrical storage areas that kinetically power our inner subconscious. Apparently, there are existing subconscious brain patterns that create mild synaptic responses in the dead dormant brain, which then create these…so called…scattered delusional dream clips. You know, kind of like a fantasy world dream state. Kind of like a dream for your dream. Right now...all we can hope for is that this poor soul had some happy and enjoyable fun dreams before his brain’s electrical patterns stopped.”

With fear in his eyes, the nervous Slade looked down at the bloody body stump and says, “Dude, this is way too creepy for me. Dream state in death stuff and all…it is way too creepy for me. Come on, let’s hurry up and get this guy bagged and to the morgue before you get me too freaked out to work for the rest of the night.”

The two men silently and methodically went about their job of collecting Jim’s dismembered body parts. Jack saved the head for last. He reached down and picked up the head, took hold of each eyelid and closed the eyes. The dead head now looked more at peace with his eyes closed. Jack gently placed the head into the body bag with the rest of the man’s corpse and body pieces. He zipped up the bag and placed it on the gurney that was awaiting its cargo just outside the yellow lined barrier.

Both Jack and Slade took hold of the gurney and, with some effort, pushed and rolled it along the grassy area toward the parked coroner’s van. They loaded the body bag into the back of the van and walked toward the front of the vehicle. Still slightly creeped out from what Jack told him earlier, Slade quickly hoped into the front passenger seat and fastened his seat belt. He silently waited for his partner to enter the van and take him back to the morgue. Before Jack climbed into the driver’s seat, and without his knowledge, something fell off of the bottom of his Red Wing shoes.

The End

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