THE SUM OF OUR PARTS

The singing woke him up an hour before his alarm clock usually went off. At first, he thought it was someone outside his bedroom window, so he tried to ignore it and go back to sleep. Then, he realized that the melody came from his head. It reminded him of when he was younger. The fillings in his teeth used to pick up radio transmissions. His pearly whites vibrated in his mouth, so he figured that had to be it.




Wrong. The sensation didn’t go away, and neither did the singing. He could even tell what song it was: “Eleanor Rigby,” a cappella. It didn’t sound like any version the Beatles ever did, though; it might have been a cover by a high school choir.



He put his fingers in his mouth to stop the pulsation, but when he touched his teeth, something seemed out of place. Different.



He rushed to the bathroom and looked at his open mouth in the mirror. Thirty-two pairs of eyes stared back at him, thirty-two dimples opened, and thirty-two voices sang out in perfect harmony.



He ran his fingers over the faces, and they each cried out at his touch. Then, they went back to singing.



His tongue blinked. “Watch your fingers, bub! That’s my dick you just touched!”



When he pulled his hand back, he noticed each fingertip had sprouted tiny faces, just like his teeth. They grinned and said hello.



How could he go to work like this? He answered phones for a living. Without control of his mouth, he’d be fired, and filling out job applications would be impossible with faces on his fingers.



“And you gotta’ quit jerking off,” his left palm said. “I’m tired’a the taste.”



At least his arms seemed normal . . . .



“Hey!” his belly button shouted. “Get this thing off’a me! I can’t see!”



He shrugged out of his undershirt, careful not to hurt his hands. His belly button was wider now, and his nipples were little brown eyes.



“Much better,” his torso said. “Hey, I think my brother has something to say. Careful! He’s got bad breath.”



“Let me out,” his ass said. “It’s dark in here.”



He whipped his boxers off and turned so he could see his ass in the mirror. There were no eyes, and thankfully no nose, but his butthole now had lips.



“Fresh air,” he whispered. “That’s what I need.”



As he scampered for the door, his penis groaned. “Ugh. I shouldn’t have had that last rum and Coke last night. I’m gonna’ . . . .” It opened its mouth and spewed up all over his legs.



He flung the door aside, and his right hand yelled when he touched the knob. His feet were yelping with each step. “Ow!” they said. “Ow! Ow! Ow!”



And then he, himself, cried out when he saw what awaited in his front yard. Faces looked out of the flowers, and the grass swayed back and forth in song. Even the leaves on the trees stared out at him.



It didn’t hurt when his teeth fell out and clattered to the walkway. They chittered with glee as they crawled away. His tongue slithered after them, leaving a trail of saliva behind it. Next came the tips of his fingers, leaving the other two knuckles of each to wave like a gorgon’s snakes around the palm-faces.



And then, he couldn’t think anymore. Pieces of him came away and started blazing their own trails through the world. Even his eyes crept out of their sockets as the worms of his hair dragged his head from his torso.



Last to separate were his dick and ass. “I’ll miss you, buddy,” the former said. “We had so many good times.”



“Yeah,” his ass said. “Hey, don’t be no stranger.”



“Hell, it’s a small world. And it’s just going to get smaller.”



The falling leaves and the slithering grass agreed.