Getting Goosed

Prompt Day #308: Medusa had snakes on her head and could turn a man to stone. What does the crazy lady down the street have on her head, and what power streams from her gaze?

 

Getting Goosed

                Most of the time, she keeps her “hair” hidden beneath a bath towel. You can sometimes see her walking out to the mailbox in her pink fuzzy robe and big terrycloth turban on her head. We leave her alone and she, in turn, leaves us alone. Everyone in town knows she’s crazy but only a few have seen one of her fits. We’ve heard the story of the teenagers who antagonized her to the point of an outburst but then that tale ends so unbelievably that we can’t help but want to see for ourselves.

That’s why me and Skip and Jase have decided to investigate. We’ve been watching her for two weeks now and we’ve never seen her take that towel off her head. We followed her to the grocery store the other day. She wore a pair of those big plastic sunglasses that the eye doctor gives you when he dilates your eyes. You could tell they’d been used many times before. She mumbles to herself all the time. That’s how she got to be the “crazy lady”. She walked home with her bags full of bread, one can of spam and a can of squeeze cheese. Yep, she’s a crazy lady. We walked behind her, keeping our distance when suddenly, she turned around and dropped her bags.

She began screaming gibberish, her face getting red, her head bouncing along to accentuate whatever point she was trying to get across. Her towel loosened so instead of running, we creeped closer. I saw it first, its beady black eyes peeking out from behind a crease of towel then the beak popped out and it honked right along with her.

“She has a goose on her head!” I yelled.

“You’re fucking crazy lady” Jase informed her. And that’s when the towel fell away completely. Turns out she did not have a goose on her head. She had geese growing out of her! There had to be ten long necks and heads that seemed to be erupting right out of her scalp. She had no hair otherwise.

The geese, now free began to honk and thrash mimicking her own squalls and neck bobbing. She bent over to pick up the towel and the plastic glasses fell off her face. She seemed to panic. She didn’t know what was more important: the glasses or the towel. She went for the glasses. Skip, for some unexplained reason jumped forward and grabbed the towel.

Crazy Goosehead looked up at him and screamed. Jase and I were standing off to the side and lucky for us. We could see her large, lidless eyes black and beady like the birds squawking away on her head. The wide-eyed, bulging black marbles made her look all the more crazy, and we watched helplessly as Skip stood motionless like a deer in the headlights looking deep into those orbs of insanity. And then he was gone. In his place was a pile of breadcrumbs, some still falling to the ground, dancing little tornadoes on the sidewalk.

The geese went crazy, they were honking and stretching their necks like a pack of hungry Dobermans. Crazy lady goosehead fell to the ground as if she was about to do some push-ups. Me and Jase took enough to time to say goodbye to our friend as the frenzied geese gobbled him up and then we ran. We ran and neither one of us looked back. We didn’t want to turn into a trail of bread crumbs only to be eaten by a headful of angry fowl.

We know now that those teens weren’t lying about the things they saw. Jase and I know that Marybeth Oakley is not a runaway; that she is never coming back. Neither is Skip. We lost a friend to that Medusa freak and now we’re the ones telling the crazy stories that no one believes. Now we just try to keep anyone else from seeing it for themselves and wondering just how long bodiless geese can live.

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