Strange Faces: Part 10

Part 10

“I thought you had to summon him first?” I asked Buster.

“Yeah, that would have been awesome,” he said.

“You dumbasses.  He wants to be here more than we want him here, more than likely,” added Sancho.

“What do you mean?”

“He means”, my mirror self interrupted, “I’m ready for my close up”.

And with that, the environment around us began to shimmer as the apparition we’ve come to know as Scooter once again tore its way into our reality.  Stepping out of the mirror onto the lawn, he seemed more there than ever, something I attributed to the magical energies at work in my back yard.  Walking to the edge of the circle, he now seemed to be nothing more than a crude facsimile of myself.  Once familiar features were dissolving into a more ragged visage as he gained more strength. 

Or maybe I’m just really seeing myself for the first time, I thought.

 And shuddered.

  As he walked toward the circle, he reached out with his left hand, testing the limits of our protection.  The air seemed to ripple as he dragged his fingers across the invisible barrier.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “Entry requires both hands.”

“Ohhhh, burn!” said Sancho, as he and my brother smirked.

“Hmmmm...” Scooter looked at the stump of his right hand.  “I’m gonna let that one go.”

I said, “Well, that very handsome of you.”

“All right, enough.  You know why I’m here.”

“You’re looking for a handout?” asked Sancho.

“Ok, that’s real funny, but now it’s time for bus-“

“Holy athame!” shouted Buster, as he threw the butter knife at Scooter.

We all watched as it sailed harmlessly past my doppelganger to land with a soft thud next to the mirror.  There was a moment of silence as we all turned to look at my brother, who took this opportunity to study his shoes.  “Soooo….what were you saying again?” he asked.

Scooter responded, “I was saying, it’s time to end this foolishness and get down to business.”

I stepped forward warily.  I knew that this had to end as well, as it had gotten progressively stupider as the night wore on.  The human mind can only tolerate so much.  But I had no idea what to do.  Looking him in the eye, I asked  “So, what happens now?”

“What happens now is you come out of that circle and join with me.  You won’t be completely lost, just kind of put away.  In a nice little corner of our mind.  I made a nice little virtual room for you; its got a tv and an Xbox and plenty of porn, so you won’t be bored.  And you won’t have to worry about anything else, ever again.”

“I already do that.  I fail to see the benefit here.”

“Don’t be so glib” he responded.  “Think about it.  You want this.”

“And what would you get out of this…arrangement?” I asked, ignoring his last statement.

“A chance to live a real life.”

“What, like Pinocchio?”

“Uh, sure, like Pinocchio.  But –“

“Because I don’t know how that would work out for you.”

“…uh, well-“

“You know at one point he was turned into a donkey?”

“Ok, but ….well.. what?”

“The point is, I like my life the way it is.”

“Wait, how did any of what you just said have a point, and how was…you know what?  Doesn’t matter.   Look, this is happening, whether you like it or not, so just lay back, spread your legs and go to your happy place.”

“Yeah, well how are you going to get me?  Huh?  Come at me bro!  Oh, wait, you can’t cross our circle, can you?  Well, that’s jus too bad, sucka.” And with that, I put my right arm straight out and opened my fingers, staring bullets into my twin.

From behind me, I heard Sancho ask, “Did he just pretend to drop a microphone in front of Scooter, like in that movie with that one rapper guy?”

“Yeah,” said Buster.  “But I think he pulled it off.”

Ignoring everyone else, Scooter looks me in directly in the eye. 

“Alright, you want to do this the hard way?  Let’s do it the hard way.”

To be continued. Probably.

Jrx

Strange Faces: Part 8

“Thank you for calling Mountain Dewp, my name’s Christy, how can I help you?”

“Hi, Christy, I recently purchased some of your product, and I have a little complaint”

Being the most practical of our group, Sancho had convinced me to call the number on the bottle.  To him, the straightforward approach was always best.  If he was in the movie Speed, he would have shot the hostage just like Keanu Reeves, removing them from the equation and taking away the hostage takers leverage, because to him, that was the fastest and most practical way to a solution.  The hostage may disagree, but you can’t argue with results.  Except, probably a world weary police captain, African American of course, who would be forced to suspend Sancho, asking for his badge and gun, until a formal inquiry was completed by Internal Affairs,  all while tiredly muttering “ I'm too old for this shit.”

Too old for this shit, and he still made it through 4 movies.

I'm sorry, that analogy got away from me.  Where was I?

“I’ll be happy to help you in any way I can.”

“Well, you say that.  Just wait.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Well, Christy, it seems that after ingesting some of your, *ahem*, fine product, I am now experiencing events of a supernatural variety.”

“Ah, I see.  How can I help with that?”

“How can you help?  Well, you can tell me how to get rid of ‘supernatural apparitions’.”

“ I'm sorry sir, but I'm unable to assist with that.  We’re not trained in that area.”

“Ok, well, just so you know, I plan on filing a complaint with the Better Business Bureau.”

“That is of course your option, but the warning label on our product will indemnify us from any type of liability.  But perhaps I could offer you some coupons.”

“What the fuck am I going to do with coupons?  Offer my apparition half off his next purchase?”

"I'm just doing my job, sir."

“So were the Nazis, and that didn't turn out well either.”

“What?”

At this point, my brother interjected, “Dude, just hang up.  I'm almost done setting up.”

Turning to my brother, whom I have decided to call, oh let’s say, Buster, I said to the phone, “Listen, Christy, this is pointless.  I'm gonna hang up now.  I would say it’s been a pleasure talking to you, but it hasn't.”

“Well, thank you for calling Mou-“

Yeah, whatever, I thought as I hung up.   “Show me what you got” I said to Buster.

“Follow me” he replied.

Heading outside, we found Sancho in the back yard, putting the finishing touches on Busters plan. 

“What happened on the phone?” he asked.

I said “ I'm getting coupons.  What’s all this?”

  In the middle of the yard was a large circle made of salt.  Four candles were ready to be lit on what I assumed were the four cardinal points.  In the center of the circle was a makeshift altar, made from a disused barbecue grill that had clearly seen better days.  Resting atop the altar was Busters athame, or ceremonial dagger.  In reality, he didn't have an athame, but I had loaned him a freshly dish washed butter knife that I thought would work just as well. 

“Did you just pour salt all over my lawn?” I asked Sancho.  “You know nothing is gonna grow there now, right?”

Sancho said, “It’s a shitty backyard anyway.  Besides, your brother made me do it.”

Turning to Buster, I asked “So, what’s the plan then?”

“Well,” he replied, “first we cast the circle, being inside of course.  That will provide us some protection from any outside forces.  Then we summon Scooter, using this mirror I found in the garage” He pointed to what I guessed was a large mirror covered with a blanket, leaning against a tree. 

“ Wasn't that grandma’s mirror?” I asked.  “We’re not gonna destroy it or anything are we?  Mom will be pissed.”

“No, no” he said offhandedly.  “ I'm sure it will be fine.” Continuing with his plan, he said “finally, once we've summoned the apparition, we simply banish him to a dark oblivion.”  He made it all sound so simple.

I said, “You can do that?”

“Not sure” he said.  “But we’re gonna find out”.

Strange Faces: Part 5

(read part one here, part two here, part three here and part four here.)

“Quickly, Sancho!” I cried. “We need a young priest and an old priest!”

Twisting the cap off of the bottle of soda, I began to chant “The Power of Christ compels you, the power of Christ compels you!” as I splashed the window with Holy Dew.

I looked back at Sancho, still seated on the couch, now on his phone.  “Dude”, he started, “I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but this is going on YouTube tonight.”

“The power of Chri-“

“Enough!”

My reflection cut me off in mid chant.

Not knowing what else to do, and running low on soda, I sat down next to Sancho on the couch.

“Alright,” I said.  “What do you want from me?”

“What any caged animal wants” he replied. “Freedom. A life beyond the mirror.  An escape from the servitude of reflection.”

I said, “Freedom? No problem”. I waved my arms expansively and said, “You’re free.”

“Done and done” added Sancho. “I know a guy who can get you a fake ID; we’ll get you a job at the mall, maybe at that pretzel place.  You can get us ten percent off. Your name will be Scooter.”

Mmmmm. Pretzels.

“Who do you know that can get fake IDs?” I asked.

“Just…this guy, alright” he replied. “Look, don’t call me on this shit, okay? I'm just spit-balling here.”

“Silence!” shouted my doppelgänger.

“I want more than just a life. I want what you've never used, what you've never wanted”

“My copy of Twilight that Sancho gave me?” Under his breath, I heard my friend say “go fuck yourself”.

“Your life” said Scooter, the doppelgänger.

I gulped hard.  “What are you talking about?”

“You walk through this world like a ghost” he said.  “You have no purpose, no motivation, and no goals.  You live your life at a bare minimum.  You have the skill and talent to do so much more and yet you refuse.  You play at being confident and self-assured, successfully hiding the fact that you feel worthless and alone in the world.  Your apathy has caused you to push away anyone who might have got close to you over the years.  There are many who would be your friend if you let them, but you choose only one, Sancho, and only because he’s been around more or less consistently for over twenty years.”

“You think you’re laying some grand truth on me?” I said, trying not to appear shaken.  “I know what I am and I know what I’m capable of.  And my apathy means I don’t give a shit what you think.  Besides, if I’m as pathetic as you say, what does that make you?”

“Lucky” he said.  “It’s your lack of belief in yourself that allowed me to be born.  It’s making me stronger even now.”

Indeed, as he spoke, the translucent reflection was becoming sharper, more defined.  I felt a wave of nausea and my vision became blurred.

“I may not be using much of my life right now” I said, my words beginning to slur. “But I’ll be goddamned if I'm going to let you have it!”

“What’s happening?” I heard Sancho ask weakly.  I turned towards him in time to see him vomit on my laptop.

Will the Geek Squad take care of that? I thought.

Geek Squad. For $30 they'll turn on your computer.

“He coming through again,” I managed to say as I moved drunkenly to pick up my laptop.  Vertigo was slowing overcoming my motor functions.  Through blurred vision, I could see that his hand had already made it across the windows barrier. 

Summoning what strength I could, I flung the laptop at the window, screaming, “An Apple a day keeps the doctor away, bitch!”

The window shattered into a dozen pieces, a hollow scream from Scooter as his image was destroyed; the laptop landed with a crash in the bushes outside. 

“That quip made no sense” said Sancho.  “That wasn't even a Mac.  It was Compaq.”

“Whatever” I said. I wasn't listening.  On the floor beneath the window was Scooters hand, flecks of vomit dotting the appendage; the only piece of him that came through before I broke the window.

Turning back to Sancho, I said “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

To Be Continued...

JrX

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Strange Faces: Part 2

(read part one here; or just scroll down, don't be lazy.)

“Now listen carefully” he said.

Is that what my voice sounded like?  People had always told me that I had a voice made for radio, but I never really believed it.  Listening now to the silky sounds coming out of my doppelgängers  throat made me think a new career path had just opened up.  

They could call me the Wolfman, I thought.

“Pay attention!”, Mirror Me shouted. 

Shit, I almost forgot he was there.  I should probably describe what I was seeing at this point.  He was more than just my double.  Of course he looked just like me, right down to the Marilyn Monroe mole on my cheek.  Being from what I assume was an alternate dimension, he also had that evil twin goatee, like Mr. Spock had on that one episode of Star Trek. 

Making the  goatee sexy since the 23rd century.

 Then I remembered that I also had a goatee and it kind of sucked the fun right out of the horror.  But after a moment, I realized that the similarities were only superficial.  What came out of the mirror was an exact copy of me in every way.  What was standing before me now was changing in oh so subtle ways.  As I watched, pounds began to melt off of him.  Where I could be described as a bit, cough cough, heavy, my twin was slowly reaching my ideal weight, a thousand Hollywood diets screaming in protest.  The small scar on my hand from a childhood accident was slowly fading away.  Even his hair was changing style, split down the middle in a way that didn't make him look like a complete douche. Bastard.

No longer needed.

“I am the you that you always wanted to be”, he said. “I am you without the fear, without the anxiety and depression you keep hidden from even your own family.  I am the mask of confidence you slip on every day as you look into the mirror, steeling yourself for another endless day of false smiles and forced friendships because you can’t for a moment conceive of anyone accepting you for who you really are.  What I really am.”

Keep talking, asshole. Not that I wasn't listening.  I heard every word; I just didn't think that this was a good time for self-discovery.  There were other, more pressing problems to confront.  Escape came to mind. 

“I am th-gahhh!”  

That last was my attempt at making dick hamburger with his crotch.  Unfortunately for him, but fortunately for me, my position falling backward into the tub left my legs elevated to perfect crotch level.  The bathroom, as small as it is (I think its cozy), had him standing well within reach for a size twelve dick kicking.  Taking the opportunity I created, I scrambled out of the tub, leaving him writhing in what I can only hope was excruciating pain, and headed for the living room.

I need a weapon, I thought. Think.

Get me my boomstick.

Standing in the living room, I began to take a quick inventory of its contents, hoping to see something that I could use to bludgeon an inter-dimensional doppelgänger.  You don’t see tools for that at Sears, you know.  Although it would probably be made by Craftsman.

Ok, lets see.  TV remote. No, its fragile; just looking at it wrong causes the batteries to fall out.  Ok, next.  Laptop sitting on my coffee table.  No, no.  Kill me, but don’t take away my internet.  Day old French fries next to laptop.  Maybe I could feed them to him.  No, wait! Got it!

Rushing back into the bathroom, I brandished my chosen weapon as the knights of old would brandish their swords. 

Holding my back-scratcher ready, I said, “All right motherfucker, get ready for the worst scratching of your life!”  Alright, the knight I was thinking of may have been Don Quixote.  Sue me.

From Bruce Campbell to this fucking guy.  Things aren't going well.

But he was no longer there.  A ripple in the mirror and a scrawled message on its surface told the tale.

“I am everywhere”

I had no reflection.

To Be Continued...

JrX

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Strange Faces

(first part of a short story i've been dicking around with. let me know if you want to see more.)

There’s a thing called the strange face in the mirror illusion.  You stare at yourself in the mirror and after a few minutes, things begin to appear distorted.  You may have experienced this yourself at some point, and some research has been done on the subject.  One experiment done by Italian psychologist Giovanni Caputo, had fifty test subjects attempt this visual illusion.  The experiment lasted ten minutes but the subjects began to perceive the “strange face illusion” after only one.  Descriptions by the participants varied greatly:  66% reported “huge deformations” in their face;  28% described seeing  an unknown person; and 48% described seeing “fantastical and monstrous beings”. 

Not cool.

As strange as this phenomenon is, there have been some attempts to explain it.  One possible explanation is the Troxler effect.  What it is is unvarying stimulus dropped from our perception.  That is to say, for example, if a piece of paper falls on your arm, it is felt for a few seconds before the sensation vanishes.  This principle of unvarying stimulus also applies to vision.  So if you stare too long at yourself in the mirror, your brain will automatically start to cancel out any information that is constant, like, for example, your nose or your lips.  This will account for the “huge deformations” reported by the participants of the above mentioned experiment and even the urban legend of Bloody Mary.  As I look into the mirror now, I realize that this doesn’t account for the “fantastical and monstrous beings” they reported however, or the way that my mirror self raises its left arm when I raise my right.

She knows what I'm talking about.

But I wasn't truly scared until my mirror self winked at me and reached for my arm.

JESUS CHRIST! I thought as I stumbled backwards into the tub.  As I watched in horror, Mirror Me was making his way into the bathroom proper.  Already he was almost half in.  I felt almost sick watching this thing, as handsome as he was, birth itself into my world.  Nausea gripped me and my vision became blurred.  It was as if reality itself was pulsating around me, angry at this intrusion from another world.  As Mirror Me finally came fully into my bathroom, standing over me in triumph, I felt the world snap back into place with a jolt and began to come to my senses.  Almost immediately I heard a strange squealing.  I looked around for the source, expecting to find a frightened child, when I suddenly realized it was coming from me. 

Holy shit, was it trying to talk to me?!

“-…dick hamburger.”, he said. 

 “Whafuck?”, I managed weakly. 

He replied, “I said, don’t move, or I’ll stomp on your crotch till its nothing but dick hamburger.”

Oh. That makes more sense. 

He said, “Now,  listen carefully…”

I dare you.

To Be Continued...

Read part 2 here

JrX

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