I’ve always trusted it. My face that is. It may not be the best looking face, I’ve reasoned, but at least I don’t have to look at it. Like other people, I use my face to communicate the most expedient emotional state to the outside world, and my face used to do this as well as most. In fact, I’d begun to take it for granted. So I ignored the warning signs at first. I did notice though, that my face looked a little tired in the morning, as if it had had a rough night. Bad dreams, I assumed. Or, perhaps, good ones. And I began to get a lot of funny looks, more than usual, and women began to slap me, unprompted. It’s bracing, of course, to be slapped unexpectedly; still, I found it puzzling… Soon, I had the distinct impression that my face was acting strangely… independently. So I tried to catch it in the act. I would go about my business, whistling nonchalantly, then whip around to look into a mirror. But my face was always too fast for me. Sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I would see it flicker a bit, but by the time I was turned fully to the mirror my face would have itself arranged into an appropriately suspicious stare. I resorted to more extreme measures. I hired a private detective to photograph me during the day, when my face wasn’t looking. It worked. The pictures showed my face doing all sorts of bizarre things in public. But the final straw came when I was secretly videotaped while attending a party. I remember being bored and alienated at that party… but my face had a great time! The video showed “me” winking, grinning, being friendly, flirting! Now I knew the shocking truth. I was no longer able to face myself. Obviously, something had to be done. But what? I tried wearing heavy makeup, masks, Groucho glasses… I tried mudpacks, skin grafts and, in desperation, a Rolfing session (my nose still hurts). I even tried positive thinking, but that garbage never works for me. “Enough is enough!” I finally decided, and made arrangements for radical plastic surgery. Total face removal. Which makes shaving a lot easier.
After his face was removed, freelance writer Angus W. Stocking had it placed in a blind trust. He (Mr. Stocking) is currently located in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin.