FRED, THE DIS-EMBODIED HEAD.
Written by TONEYE EYENOT
“Well, fuck me dead!” exclaimed poor Fred, the freshly dis-embodied head.
Rolling off the foot of the bed, he saw his body twitch.
“I shouldn’t care but this aint fair! You psychopathic bitch!”
As he hit the bedroom floor, his killer bolted for the door.
Her hatchet, bloody, in her claw. Her vengeance justly sated.
“You got what you rightly deserved and no more”, Dolores stated.
She swung the bedroom door ajar, ran from the house and to the car,
as sirens sounded from afar. There had been some commotion.
She slammed the gears and threw the beast into a forward motion.
Tearing ‘round the corner wide, the car performs a sideways slide.
She near collects a passer-by, who hollers as he dives,
“My god, I can’t believe I’m still alive!”
Back in control, Dolores starts to breathe again. Her pounding heart now skips a beat,
beside her on the seat sits Fred…The freshly dis-embodied head.
“Hey Dolores, look at me! In killing me, you set me free!
Free to do most anything. I think I might just sing”.
His ghastly chords and horrid tones chilled poor Dolores to her bones.
She cast him from the window to the swiftly passing road.
Not a soul in sight, she was once again alone.
Shaken, Dolores speeds towards her home.
Once inside with bolted door, Dolores falls onto her floor.
On her homeward ride, she was terrified and stunned by what she saw.
Guess who rolls out from her bedroom door?
“Hey Dolores, fancy that! You threw me out, thought that was that.
Well, here I am to prove you wrong. How ‘bout another song?”
Dolores screamed and held her ears. Fred began his jests and jeers
in off, dischordant baritones that rattled poor Dolores’ bones.
She hastily scrambled for the telephone.
“What is your emergency?” The voice enquired indifferently.
“Help me, please!” Dolores screamed. “He will not leave me be!
I’m on Flinder Street. Eleven sixty three. I don’t care how, just get here now.
You have to understand, he’s killing me!”
As sirens wailed, her sanity failed whilst Fred the dis-embodied head assailed.
He sang of times of happiness. Of times they’d felt their lives were blessed
with the truest love, through all things, would prevail.
His voice carried the agony of ripped and broken nails.
Bursting through her bolted door, reached the long arm of the law
and grabbed Dolores off the floor, her mind destroyed, in tatters.
Fred the dis-embodied head lay silently and surely dead.
Dolores’ bloody hands are all that matters.
Taken into custody, she was labelled with insanity.
Her life was spent in deep repent, never to be free.
Left without hope to atone, in her padded room alone,
with Fred, the dis-embodied head to keep her company.
© Toneye Eyenot 2014