ON THE IMPORTANCE OF NOT LOSING ONE’S HEAD
He had no head. That's what was really bothering him that morning. He had gone to bed with his head in its usual place, but now it was gone.
Perhaps it had fallen off. He felt around, but found nothing.
Maybe it had left him. Had he and his head quarreled? He couldn't remember.
Then again, maybe it had been stolen. In the interest of breathing fresh air, he had left the window open. A thief could have entered quite easily.
He tried calling out for his head, but discovered that attempting to do so without a mouth was rather unsettling. Then he tried looking around for it, but all that accomplished was a slight swivel from his neck. This was also rather unsettling.
He climbed out of bed and felt his way out of the house. He made it to the sidewalk and pantomimed for help, but no one knew what he was pantomiming with his headless body. One person gave him a quarter.
Now twenty-five cents richer, the headless man stepped blindly off the curb. Although he never knew what hit him, it was a bus. The bus driver, already behind on his route, sped on.
Several hours later, a police officer surveyed the scene. A lifeless, headless body lay in the road, covered in tire tracks, its head in the window of the wig shop across the street, modeling a rather attractive hairdo. After several seconds of careful deliberation, the police officer declared it a suicide. Then he went home and ate dinner with his family.
