WEIRD GOINGS ON WITH THE HEADS OF OTHER PEOPLE
by Ross Wilson

- Did you put the Body in the garage?

Nostral rolled into the living-room and stopped beside his wife, Jaw-wag, in front of the TV with one eye closed.

- I got something in my eye, he said.

- Close them when you roll. Did you?

- Did I what?

- Put the Body in the garage?

- Yeah.

- You should have just left it to rot in the drive.

Nostral swivelled to look at her with his good eye while trying to wink the fluff from his other eye - What’s your problem? He asked her - it’s a Body, it gets us around. It has its function.

- Huh.

- What? Would you rather . . .

- I’d rather have a Body that was beautiful! Or at the very least pretty.

Nostral glared at her through his one good eye and rocked from side to side and sighed.

- What? She demanded, turning on him.

- You’re never happy, you know that? He snarled.

And Jaw-wag started to cry.

- What is it now?

- You don’t understand, she howled - you just don’t understand.

- What are you blubbering about?

- It has a pot belly and a limp! She shrieked.

Nostrals shaggy eyebrows butterflied his brow in a shrug - It has two legs, he told her - it gets us around. Some Heads don’t have any legs at all. There are little Heads in parts of this world with no . . . .

- Alright! She snapped, tears bursting from her eyes.

Nostral frowned at the TV and blinked his bad eye rapidly - Fucking fluff, he grumbled.

- Don’t swear at me! Jaw-wag howled and broke down again.

- I wasn’t. Did you vacuum today?

- You don’t love me anymore do you?

- What the hell are you on about now?

- How could anyone love a Head with short stumpy legs and a pot belly?

- And a limp, Nostral reminded her.

And Jaw-wag broke down in head wracking sobs.

Mo-hawk and Kreecbrow chinned the window sill laughing at or admiring the Bodies that strolled down their street. A joint sat in the ashtray between them beside a can of beer with straws snaking towards their mouths. A breeze ruffled their hair and bum fluff tufts. Feathers blew on gold rings piercing their ears. They used the rims of their back to front baseball caps for deck chairs.

- Look at that spaz! Mo-hawk snorted, laughing, almost spitting his joint onto the front lawn.

Kreecbrow almost somersaulted out of the window, laughing.

Mo-hawk shook from side to side, slurping lager from his straw, his lips clenched tightly around it and the joint as he puffed away simultaneously, elevating his left eyebrow as a young girl-head entered the frame of their window - Oh aye! He said.

- Cheekbones, Kreecbrow groaned.

- Look at the lips on it man! I’m getting a Pinocchio!

Mo-hawk shuffle-chinned the window ledge and slotted his eye into the Loba-scope.

- Can you see her lobes Mo?

- I can see a slight piece of skin.

Kreecbrow rolled across the window sill and butted him away.

The girl-head had long jet black hair that framed her features and hung like curtains around her ears. Kreecbrow could see no lobes beneath the tresses - Why can’t it be windy tonight, he prayed, wanting a big gust to sweep her hair away.

- I’ll try the fan, Mo-hawk said and turned it on with his nose.

The girl-head shrieked, cupped her Bodies ears in its hands, and ran down the road as Mo-hawk and Kreecbrow laughed and screamed: get your lobes out for the lads!

- Look at the state of her Bod man! Kreecbrow laughed as another girl-head, otherwise very pretty, walked into view. The girl-heads Body beneath her was four foot four and fourteen stone - Those hips don’t go with those lips baby!

- Look at the bodywork on that dude! Mo-hawk said as the Body of a young man-head swaggered down the path, three quarters of his muscular Body covered in tattoos. Sunglasses gripped his perfectly proportioned ears and concealed his eyes behind their tinted windows. His nose was long and slender, and did he know it? The angle his head was tilted at made it only possible for him to see where he was going by looking down his nose. His Body elbow perched on thin air as if on an invisible window sill as he cruised. Speakers were wired into the Body nipples, blasting music loudly so all Heads turned to look and admire him.

- That is so cool, Kreecbrow said.

- Look at that cunt go!

A young man-head in a big Body ran down the street, knocking a smaller body through a hedge and stepping on the toes off another.

Mo-hawk and Kreecbrow cheered him on, laughing.

- He’s drugunked out of his Body man!

Bushybroo watched the huge drugunked Body recklessly stagger-speed down the street and shook sadly from side to side - What is the world coming too, eh, he sighed, - terrible, bloody terrible so it is.

He turned slowly on the window sill and hesitated by the Head-chute a second before opting for his newly installed Head-lift.

- Getting too old we are, he said, tumbling across the carpet. He let his newspaper sag like a flag with no breeze over the arm of his rocking chair and nodded back and forth, back and forth, so the chair picked up momentum - It’s a changed world Ayeliner, he said to his wife.

Ayeliner rocked back and forth beside him, knitting needles jutting from her false teeth, a balaclava unfolding before her, her molars grip-grinding the needles as her jaw flexed and twitched. She glanced at the newspaper hanging from Bushybroos chair.

TESTOSTERIODS PUMPED BODY MASSACRES FAMILY!

- Aye, Bushybroo said, sparking his pipe - changed times.

Smoke whispered through his toupee fringe.

Baggyeen was almost home, turning into his drive, when a CopBodys siren went off and pulled him over.

- What seems to be the trouble officer? He asked.

The copper-head looked at him in disgust - ID please.

Baggyeens Body fumbled in its pockets. The copper-head watched the sluggish reaction of the Bodies hands and the swaying motion of the legs.

- Are you on the snuff son? He asked.

- Me! No officer.

- Yor Bod tank full of alcohol is it?

- No.

- Hmmm. Well, you got to piss in this here bag, the officer said, extracting a pissbag from his uniformed Body and fitting it over Baggyeens Bodies penis - Piss your petrol son.

As Baggyeens Body urinated the copperhead pulled a pepper laced handkerchief from his Bodys pockets and instructed Baggyeen to sneeze into it.

The head news-head read the Headlines from the autocue - Today a Bodybuilder turned on its family. Another cannonheadball causes chaos in the Middle East. And a male-head was discovered frozen to death when his beard was caught in his head flap.

A young family was slaughtered when their own Body turned against them in the early hours of this morning. It grabbed the young father by his hair, scalped him, gouged his eyes, and used him for a basketball before drop kicking the deadhead over the back yard fence. Footage of the atrocity was captured on the young father-heads security system. The mother and children’s fate was similarly sadistic and eerily imaginative, which leads to questions about the intelligence of a Body, and whether or not Heads are becoming increasingly mislead by the urges of their Bodily needs. Leading experts believe it is perfectly natural in the progress of Head-kind for Bodies to develop. The church disagrees, stating that it is unnatural and a sin for science to interfere with nature, that thoughts belong in the Head, not in the Body, and that the increasing blur between the two raises serious ethical issues.

Father Skinhead was on line earlier this afternoon, and this was his opinion on the debate:

- It is because of science’s arrogance that Heads keep losing their Bodies in violent outbursts. More has to be done to educate the public off the dangers. Over the past few years the relationship between Body and Head has become increasingly morally ambivalent to the extent now that some Heads can no longer think for themselves.

Meanwhile, the deadheads of the family have yet to be discovered.

Earlier this morning I rolled into town to interview neighbours and eyewitness off the horrific attacks. And here is what the head on the street had to think.

An old lady-head in a shawl - Oh, it’s terrible, they were such a lovely family, and the Body seemed so well trained too. I just can’t get my head around it.

A middle aged male-head in a pub wearing a bonnet, a rollup in his lips and a Beer straw by the microphone - It’s despicable, that these Bodies should be allowed in society. It was only a matter of time until one turned on an innocent head. These young-heads roll and stroll around with their noses full of snuff and Bodies full of testosteroids. They think they know everything. Well, if you ask me, their heads are up their bloody Bodies a***.

A young bespectacled student head with a twitchy left ear and banner protesting the immorality of chemically enhanced muscular Bodies -: the Body was of the Bodybuilder variety favoured among young men. These Bodies are designed for show and for strength. It is just the vanity of young male-heads. Nose extensions are all they are. It is high time society faced this issue Head on. For two long Heads have turned the other cheek. And in the case of certain politicians turned their Head away all together! Heads should be made to roll!

Meanwhile, in the Middle East, another cannonheadball shot headself into a crowded café.

Our foreign correspondent, Mo Stache, was there to report the carnage . . .

Massi Kara wiped her hair on the doormat and rolled through the head flap. Her dad, Kombover, chinned the couch, a tabloid spread across the carpet and a remote control next to him. His beerbrow hung over the band tighed above his eyebrows to keep it from obstructing his vision. He only glanced at his daughter as she rolled down the lobby but some glint caught his eye and he screamed for her to stop and stay just where she was young lady-head! Then he screamed on his wife.

Perm was ironing in the kitchen – the red hot iron plate glued with specialised adhesive to her forehead – she butted the garments spread on the board like a woodpecker.

- What is it? She shouted back at her husband.

- Lobe inspection! Kombover shouted.

And Massi Kara shook from side to side and goggled her eyes.

- Don’t shake your head at me girl-head!

- I haven’t had them pierced! Massi Kara insisted, and whipped back the strands of hair that curtained her ears. Kombover fell off the couch in shock, his eyes clenched shut, he bounced and rolled into the fire guard, singing his eyebrows.

- She’s telling the truth, Perm told him, examining both lobes.

- Happy? Massie Kara hissed.

Perm rolled back through to her ironing and Massi Kara slammed the head flap in her room and jammed her music on at full volume.

Kombover was back on the couch shaking from side to side.

- That girl-head, he said to himself, then shouted through to his wife, - they roll around half naked these days you know!

- Oh, it’s just the fashion Komby, that’s all.

- It’s disgusting, the amount of lobe they show in public, and as for piercing them!

- I seem to recall you liking my mini-strand, Perm said with a smile and stuck her head into the ironing board.

Kombover recalled the once popular mini-strand hairstyle designed to reveal a tantalising glimpse of lobe. After a few minutes he snorted and shouted through to the kitchen - they wear micro-strands nowadays! And what the hell kind of music is that? Whatever it is it can’t be good for your bloody head. She’ll be into the snuff next you know.

- Oh lighten up Komby, Perm said, and crashed her forehead down into the crotch of his Bodies jeans.

A panel of intellectuals chinned a tabletop in a circle. The one in the centre, wearing a glass eye, introduced the others as the camera zoomed in on his face. On tonight’s programme: are heads becoming too attached to their Bodies? Should snuff aphrodisiac be legalized? Is the controversial drug, popular among so many young male-heads, Testosteroids, bad for their and societies health? And has the artist Headfukk Orr gone too far with his latest exhibition?

My guests tonight are the distinguished Professor Go-taefur Beard and the award winning journalist and author Athro Weed Tumble.

Are heads becoming too attached too their Bodies Go-taefur?

- Go - Tae - Fu.

- Pardon?

- It is Go - Tae - Fu, not Fur.

- I do apologise.

- Well, Go-taefu sighed, rocking back slightly so his spectacles slid down his nose. - some fundamentalist groups in the States claim we are too detached from them, with their “mankind” theory, the fall off the Head, the decapitation in the garden and all that rubbish. Utter nonsense of course, and yet rather frightening when one examines the numbers of heads twisted to believe in such claptrap. It makes one shudder to think of the consequences if these fundamentalists were ever to gain power. Why, they’d have Heads sewn onto Bodies! Now, as to your question “are people becoming too attached to their Bodies” well, one only has to look around our modern society to find the answer, and the answer is emphatically, Yes.

- And why do you think that is the case? And is it a bad thing?

Go-tae Fu sipped his water-straw as he considered the question. - It is perfectly natural to be fond of your Body, and to take pride and pleasure in it. However, I do believe in recent years our society has become rather too aware, self-conscious even, of their Bodies, to the point now that there are Bodies out of control on our streets because of drug intake or dieting or a whole variety of things designed to improve them. Our modern world is a psychological battleground between marketing forces selling us what we think we want and what we truly need with young innocent Heads caught up in between it all. The amount of young Heads made to feel inferior and ugly and drawn into despair and even suicide as a result of our societal Bodily fetish is a national disgrace. These impressionable Heads are manipulated into buying certain brands by evil Body conglomerates. There is far too much emphasis on how our Bodies look. Young Heads today are twisted at such a young age they cannot see that, at the end of the day, it is only a Body to get us around from A to B. It is what is in your Head that counts.

- Interesting you should say that as the recent advertisement for the Body company Oooooh look how great my body looks I bet you wish you had one just like mine don’t you? Shows two young Heads in their Bodies holding hands with the slogan: “it’s what’s in your heart that counts. Lose your head and buy a heart today!”

Go-tae Fu shook sadly.

Ahtro Weed Tumble said, - completely redundant of course, these heart gifts, as they serve no function accept to take up storage space in the glove compartment chest cavity.

- Come here sexy lobes, Dimplechin gasped as he unravelled her bandanna with his teeth, Flutterlash assisting him, rolling around the mattress like a stripper.

- You’ll have me sneezing all over your face, Dimplechin groaned, watching her blonde locks unfold across the sheets, his Pinocchio swelling from his face. Flutterlash smiled and rolled towards him and licked the pre-snot from his nostrils.

- It’s so hard, she gasped, taking his nose between her lips and sucking it. She flicked the tip with her tongue and turned to rub her ear up against it.

- Ooooh, Dimplechin groaned, the nipple of her lobe fluttering against the tip of his nose, his nostrils quivering to the tickles of her short bristles. Then she swivelled, and they kissed for a long time, their tongues slithering over and under one another like oiled wrestlers. Bubbles of saliva creamed their lips and the edges of their mouths. Then Flutterlash broke away and turned for him to tongue her lobe, teasing the pierced slit, slowly lapping his way to the heaving brown orifice of her ear, and in, slithering and dribbling. Warm wet wax swelled and bubbled. Flutterlashes teeth chewed the sheets to smother her cries. And then he entered her suddenly, thrusting his nose deep into her ear, the wax squelching and spitting across his face with each thrust. - Bang my ear drum baby! She cried, - bang my ear drum! Dimplechin rammed his nose inside of her gaping ear hole, snorting and snuffling her scent and licking her ear lobe, and as he groaned she bit on the sheets squealing with pleasure. And then, suddenly, he climaxed with a long tickling shudder, sneezing deep inside of her with both barrels. The impact shot him off the bed and into the wall and sent her tumbling across the mattress. Flutterlash gazed up at the ceiling, her mouth open, gulping air. Snot and wax trickled down her cheek and dribbled from her lobe glistening with saliva.

- Dimply darling? She gasped once her breath had returned. - Dimply? Are you okay?

- I ink I oke my ose, Dimplechin said in a strange muffled voice.

And Flutterlash flipped off the back of her head onto her chin in a panic. - What?

- En it it the all.

Numbskull rolled though the backdoor head flap, hung his work hat on a handle and bit a beer from the fridge. He rolled into the living room and stopped in front of the TV and cracked the tin open with an incisor. Spray showered his face and beer bubbled over the rim. He licked it up and jabbed the remote control with his chin. The dead screen burst into a colour close up of Athro Weed Tumble, his spectacles glinting in the studio lights as he said, - if art is all about challenging the status quo and shocking heads out of their complacency, then Headfukk Orrs latest offering is a work of genius.

- How can you say that! Go-taefu Beard interrupted, - it is a scandal!

- I think it is beautiful.

- Where is the beauty in two copulating Bodies? It is disgusting! It is perverse! The head has lost his grip on reality!

- It is no more perverse than the abstract art you like Mr Beard.

- But they at least reflect . . . they affect the viewer subliminally; they engage the viewer in a dialogue.

- And Body Fornication does not?

- What does a penis ejaculating lager over nipple speakers tell us about the way we are living and not living in the modern world? I will tell you exactly what it says: that in our society if you do not have a good looking body you are nothing. It is an aesthetic elite! And it is dangerous I tell you, too . . . too allow these beautiful Heads to run amok.

- It reconnects us too our primitive instincts, and that is why you are so frightened, for it is literally off its head, we are down to head-kinds most primitive urges.

- What are you on about?

- Your art negates reality, it is merely intellectual masturbation Mr Beard, designed for the refined elite, confined to the brain. You cannot tolerate any other group that does not involve a cerebral wank.

- I will not sit here listening too . . .

- You will not listen to anything other than the grumbling behind the closed door of your own small-mindedness.

- What are you on about! We are Heads! Of course we are confined to our brains. Bodies are not Heads! They are machines, they have a function, they are little more than vehicles. You cannot possibly be serious!

- And your Head is not a . . .

- What a load off shite, Numbskull said, and shook from cheek to cheek and sighed, - the ideas some people get in their heads, I don’t know, I really don’t know. Sick, that’s all it is, bloody sick. He chinned the channel. Newsnight was replaced by an audience of Heads screaming at two obese heads arguing on a stage, their bellybrows bulging. Numbskull smiled and guzzled his beer, his grizzled beard resting on the carpet.

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