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Thursday, January 17, 2008

"The Tragic Tale of Feemus's Forehead," or "The Devil You Know"

Would you like to hear a story about my forehead? No?

Well, it's the only story I have today.

The story of my forehead begins in the mountains. It was a lovely summer hiking trip, and our hero (that's me, minus the heroics) was thrilled to be in the out-of-doors. Fresh air, vigorous exercise, pleasant companionship--what could be nicer?

It was very nice. Except for what happened to my forehead.

Now, I always wear lots of heavy-duty sunscreen and usually a hat and if I am outside when the sun is shining. Because I am a burner. I can burn through my clothes. I routinely burn despite 45 spf sunscreen.

After snorkling once, I discovered a series of tiny blisters along my arms at the water line. That was a funny looking burn--the half of me that was in the water was white and the half that was out was bright red (and slightly blistered). I saw lots of pretty fish, though. And I got slammed into a coral reef by a crazy riptide. Which was sort of fun. And sort of bloody.

Anyway, I take the whole sun thing pretty seriously.

But in the mountains in July, there's only so much one can do. The atmosphere is just so thin and the sun is so intense that sun damage happens. I didn't get too badly burned though. But something new happened: I spotted. I got these brown blotches on my forehead. I guess they're freckles, except they're not polka-dotty. They're solid. And fairly dark.

And....they are in the shape of horns.

No shit. They are almost entirely symmetrical, one on either side of my foreheard. And they look like horns.

I got home. I waited for them to fade. They didn't fade.

So I kind of just forgot about them. No one said anything, so I just figured that no one else could see them (this is one of the drawbacks of being single. There's no one to say, "Honey, I love you, but that Mark of Cain you're sporting on your mug is starting to creep people out."). I went on like this for months until I visited my family.

First thing out of my niece's mouth: "Uncle Feemus, you have HORNS."

"Oh that's nice, kid," I said. "Well, I didn't want to bring it up, but you're short. What are you, like four feet tall? I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but that's short. You notice I didn't bring it up, though? That's the polite thing to do. But you, you open with the horn thing. Real nice. And you know what? When I first met you, you were bald. Completely bald--total cue ball. And you couldn't even hold your own bald head up. But I didn't say a word. Polite thing to do."

She stared at me. "I know you're trying to be funny, Uncle Feemus," she said. "But you still have horns."

So I thought, well maybe it's just my niece who can see them. Maybe it's just the angle (she's short, after all). But then I see my Mom and she's all, "You got something on your face." And then she starts making for me with the dread bespittled thumb.

"Stay away from me with that thumb, you miserable harridan," I said.

"Oh sweetie, I know you're trying to be funny. But really, you've got something on your forehead."

Sigh.

I explained what it was. And my mother bought me some--get this--bleaching cream. For age spots. AGE SPOTS??

I am young enough to get attacked with spit-thumb, but old enough to have age spots? What the fuck?

Anyway, I am home now. And a little alarmed that I've been walking around with horns for six months and no one's said anything.

But I am a little reluctant to use the bleaching cream. It just seems so...I don't know...disturbing.

What's next? Calf implants?

7 Comments:

  • Your students were probably thinking, "Yup. He's the devil. Knew it all along."

    By Blogger jjdebenedictis, at 8:00 PM  

  • A young, impressionable college student calls his dear mother: Maw! Maw! My teacher at university's got the mark of the devil! Right on his forehead! Well, yeah, I know not to touch him and to turn a deaf ear to his satanic tongue...yes, maw, I bring my bible to class every day...No, I haven't gotten close enough to hit him with teh holy water balloon. Every time I get near him, he starts speakin in tongues about A-cleesy-ass-a-tees and such and I get all boggled and sleepy on account of the devil. Yes maw, I say my prayers before class....No, I can't do that, maw! He's the one what's gonna give me my grades n such. Okay maw, I gotta go. The horns are bright today, so I think he's been hanging out at the baby killing factories fraternizing with colored folk, queers, liberals, and mexicans. Yes maw. Love Jesus too.


    (yes I am an ass! haw haw!)

    Benticore
    Out
    (The previous diatribe/poor joke does not necessarily represent the true feelings of Benticore on such things as devilry, mexicans, and Jesus. However, the part about the speaking in tongues? Yeah, makes me sleepy too.)

    By Blogger Benticore, at 8:11 AM  

  • yeah, I think they thought that even before the horns.

    Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some dark rituals to perform. It's time to assemble the Mexican queers.

    By Blogger Feemus, at 9:22 AM  

  • Feemus, you're brilliant, funny, and cuter than a button.

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 8:49 PM  

  • Heh, I enjoyed reading that--very nice. Are the horns still in place?

    The way I see it, if a few students don't think you're the devil, then you aren't doing your job.

    By Blogger Matthew Heuett, at 7:20 PM  

  • the horns seem pretty fade resistant.

    I am thinking of asking people to call me Dark Master or something like that.

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 12:59 PM  

  • Well okay, but if you want people to call you Dark Master then they'll probably expect you to start wearing long black capes.

    And quote from the Dungeon Master's Handbook.

    By Blogger Matthew Heuett, at 2:25 AM  

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