A Knucklehead

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
When you get a headache everything can go wrong...

Submitted: June 14, 2019

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Submitted: June 14, 2019

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Recently her head was swollen like a watermelon. It went liquefied and became quite solid. She had no idea what was going on yet she did not wish to wonder why. She went to see a doctor and hoped for some good explanation and treatment.

The doctor did a standard examination on her head and said it was simply a knucklehead. Just exactly like everybody else’s. Nothing special. No hole, no clog. Just a knucklehead.

He told her don’t worry, don’t think and don't laught too much in life, as those “thoughts” can liquefy the brain into lava and add more weight to the knucklehead. He told her that was what most people did and it was how they got their heads swollen into blue melons, he explaind to her it meant depression, when he saw she was fronwing with dispair. She thought watermelon was totally different from blue melon, but from psychology and brain-ology’s viewpoint it must all related and make a lot of sense to them. But she was having too much of liquid in her head, she did not argue.

As a most contemporary treatment, the doctor pumped air, he called it medicine, into her head in hope to lighten it up. But he did not know how much to pump in, he just let the pumper run and try. That was right, a trial. Wasn’t each patient a guinea pig for medicos’ trial and error? Her head soon became so pumped up and started to think it was a balloon. It drifted up into the sky, so did she.

In last few days, she was certainly having the dream of out-of-the-body-I-fly. She flew and tried to smile. As she was a pumpkin pie, she remembered. But with the air in her head, she did not fly like the seeds of dandelion, she drifted like dusty motes in a dimly sun-shone forest. Lost, desperate and exposed.

He, the Grim Reaper, scooped her up and held her in his palms. He grinned. One more collection, he said. However, she was very light. And very defiant. She slipped off his palms while he was greedy in collecting more of knuckle-headed souls. She unplugged the pumper and let the air out of her system. She went back to pick up her body as a pumpkin pie. As she thought there were still some portions of pie left in her that she could still share.

But she knew no matter how her head might turn into a watermelon again, she would never allow herself to be pumped into a balloon again. Or she would really be a bona fide knuckehead.


© Copyright 2019 Derina Penn. All rights reserved.

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