Face off

(The revenge of the patients)


Preston Kullingher


I went to the doctor early in the morning. Didn’t want to waste time. The office was empty so I was the first customer. I came in and saw him sitting, totally relaxed, moving his phone, laughing.

Doctor, I want to change my face!

He frowned, wondering the question maybe. There was no reaction. A few seconds after a long silence, he looked at me thoughtfully and I super shaken rubbing my sweaty hands on pants all the time.

 – Did you mean the face?

Yeah! The face… face… – With the right hand I made a circular movement as if wiping  with a towel.

What do you want to change specifically?

All! I want to change everything, I’m tired of myself, you know? Every day I look in the mirror and see the same tired old goat.

I really was a rag. It had never been pretty to tell the truth. I had huge pimples that took almost all my face and that finally left scars making me look like a passion fruit crushed by a fat man’s foot. The nose was big, imposing, that in adolescence gave me the affectionate nickname The Shark given by colleagues. Big ears as a family heirloom. They were bigger as a child but there the face got fat, and everything else, and today they seem normal (understand, do not call so much attention, there are worse things!). My mouth has the normal size, the problem is the lips, if I can call it lips, they are more for horse gums, the bass ones weigh so much that it generated a curvature, a little cavity, almost covering the chin that is small and hard, like boxer. Eyes black, circular, always wide open, only the left that is a little low, as if blinking at someone. When a person has a defect in the face – a low eye, squint or cockeyed; Deviating septum in the nose, a wart on the forehead, a sign on the tip of the mouth, it causes discomfort to talk to someone face to face because the other has a tendency, a need, almost an addiction to stare at the aberration we have and we look To their eyes and we see that they only look at the defect and then try to disguise turning their faces, straightening hair and they try in vain to look to the sides, to our clothes but, I gotcha, are already looking again. It’s kind of sick for us and them.

Changing the whole face is so much surgery…

I can handle it.

– … complicated...

You’re good! I’m sure you’ll handle it.

… and has a high cost.

I realized he wanted to discourage me from doing it. Maybe He didn’t want to, had not gone with my face. Maybe it was going to be a lot of work and he was one of those lazy people who like small services. From grain to grain the chicken fills up, in this case, the pocket. Or maybe he thought I was crazy. Looked, but I wasn’t. Really I was dressed badly: dirty jeans, a little old, black shirt with the faded print of the goofy and that his long dumb face, a blue allstar, short beard, big nails and a little dirty and not to mention that I didn’t stop wiping sweaty hands on the pants frantically. I decided to trouble with him.

You think I can’t pay?

No, that’s not what I mean, I... – He hesitated. I could see the fear in his voice, he was embarrassed, he stammered. I decided to go with everything.

You think I can not pay, huh? That I’m a fucking poor bastard, hard-working -class that cleans your waste on the streets every day. You’re rich pig. Snob. Son of a bitch!

What is it? No, absolutely …

Don’t come with me not your wretch. – I screamed – I hate you.

He motioned to push the button and call the secretary.

– Ahn, Ahn, don’t even think about it – I said, getting up from the chair and heading toward him, skirting the table. – Or you’re done. Coward!

He stiffened in his chair, hard as a dead tree. Her eyes bulging out at me. Terrified. The relaxed posture of before, owner of the situation, no longer existed. Hands resting on the arms of the chair.

I picked up the answering machine and yanked the wire. With two long strides behind, always looking at him, I reached for the door and closed it with the key. Ready now it was just the two of us. There was a murderous gleam in my gaze, and along with his physiognomy and clothes, I was a perfect madman. I approached him again, slowly.

What are you going to do with me? Please, I have a wife and daughters …

– Bullshit! Where are the pics frame?

None. I had noticed. Caught him in the lie.

– Do you like to lie, doctor?

No… please…I.

Don’t lie to me! – I shouted, clapping my hand closed on the table.

The secretary heard the noise and came to the door to check. I heard her turn the door knob.

Doctor? Is everything okay over there?

I looked to him. He understood the message.

– All right, Christina. Everything’s under control.

I nodded. Good boy.

– So doctor you think that I can’t pay for your shit surgery?

– That’s not what I meant. I just said it was expensive.

– Oh! … you think I’m poor?

– No, no … – The words were barely out of his mouth.

– You think I’m crazy? There is?

– I … I … don’t…know…no.

– Oh, You know.

– are you?

– Am I? How dare you…

– I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Oh my God!

– Do you believe in God, Doctor? Are you Catholic?

– Yes … yes … Adventist …

– Ohh … Saturdays are for the Lord, Huh? You think you’re better than Catholics by following the Bible literally.

– No, I just …

– No, no, yes, yes, just … always this litany. I’ll tell you what you are. You’re a rich pig, a cretin liar. You think be better than the others in your designer suit and half million car, your blond wife with a huge white tail and house on the outskirts of town. You’re so good to live in this smelly city.

I slapped him with the outside of my right hand, my strong hand. His face went all the way to the left side and he immediately took his hand as if it burned. His right cheek was red and as it was white it looked as if blush had passed. Her mouth was already very red by nature, as if he were in lipstick. A damn well-fed, rich, cholesterol-free or anemic.

He was not going to punch him, although it was tempting to strike blows against the bourgeoisie, I was not a criminal. I was just another unemployed, unlucky worker, drowned in drinks and pills, depressed and with low self-esteem. Mentally unstable. That did not give a fuck to several months and you can’t imagine the evil that makes so much time with the poison inside the body. Dries, stiffens, enters the bloodstream going straight to the brain. Cumbrain.

Instinctively, I reached into my belt and began to loosen my pants. I was walking towards him with my lunatic face. He was looking at me and at the trousers that were descending in fear.

– What are you going to do?

– Shut up, bitch!

– What are you going to do with me? – Screamed

– Come on. Open that fucking mouth.

– No, please…

– Go on bitch …

He tries to get up from his chair in vain. Too stunned to sketch a reaction. I approached him already with the cock outside, swinging like a pendulum.



– Suck. Oh, and don’t you dare bite … otherwise you’re done.

No, please … – he tried to cry but not could. He was mentally weak.

I beat with the cock on both sides of his face. Slid like a painter from the forehead to the chin. Up and down. Then would hit his cheek again. If it had been a palette of paints, it would have been a beautiful Impressionist painting.

He could not stand the pressure and fell out of his mouth. He sucked in disgust, as if he were going to vomit at any moment. Sometimes he would choke (as I pulled his face against my waist and made him snatch everything up to the stalk). I kept pulling him by the hair, tac, tac, tac, made the sound of his forehead crashing against my belly. It tasted good, it sucked like the Rodeo Drive dolls.

I spit the whole fucking thing inside his mouth. He still tried to remove but I didn’t let him. I held him tight. He wanted him to swallow. Full and complete demoralization. The bourgeoisie finally swallowing up the waste of the proletariat. I pulled away. He fell to the floor on four. Spitting, crying, trying to vomit. The collar open, the tie drenched. He crawled across the floor.

My victory. Wasn’t nor more nor less happy, only avenged. Had I taken revenge on every hypocritical society, the president, the Republican senators (who never wanted to do that with a damn Republican senator?), Social security, bar owners, expensive hospitals, and white daddy’s children who became doctors and they fucked each other and the nurses, ER, Grays Anatomy, Private Practice, and all that shit.

Leaves. I greeted the beautiful secretary with a smile and a wink. The face was still there, stained, fallen, crooked, ugly like always.

But I was a new man.


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