by Strand, Jeff
"I'm on the side that doesn't involve accusations of stealing a nose." Josh pointed at me. "Look at him. Believe me, I've seen people who would steal noses. They get these weird twitches in their face, and their eyes don't move quite right, and they sometimes drool a little bit. Not a lot, not a whole flood, but they tend to have this faint little trickle coming out of one side of their mouth. And they make odd noises, almost out of normal hearing range. This guy, he doesn't do any of that."
"He's drooling right now!" Chester insisted.
"No, I'm not!"
"I saw something glisten next to his cheek! He wiped it off as soon as you started talking about drooling!"
Josh shook his head. "No, he didn't. I was watching for that kind of thing. Look, Chester, I know you've had a hard time of things recently, but we have to be logical about this. Accusing him of drooling isn't going to get your nose back."
"We'd better get it."
"We will. But we have to use our brains. Think about this."
All three of us stood there for a moment, thinking about it.
My only reasonable explanation was all of the stress had caused me to acquire a second personality. But I didn't want Josh and Chester to start thinking along those lines, so I didn't share my hypothesis. It was also possible that his nose had simply decomposed more rapidly than anticipated.
"You did check your pockets, right?" Josh asked me.
I'd never put the nose in my pocket, and would've remembered if I had, but I patted my pockets anyway. "Not there."
There was a knock at the door. I groaned. Knocks at the door had really worked out poorly for me this week.
"I'll answer it," said Chester.
"Oh, sure, let the noseless guy open the door," said Josh. "That won't freak anybody out or anything."
"I just want to start feeling normal again!"
Instead of contributing to the conversation, I walked into the living room and answered the door. Standing in the hallway was my despised downstairs neighbor Preston. As always, he had thick glasses, crooked teeth, and a bowl haircut that was unfashionable even by my standards. "Hello," he said, looking like he was trying hard not to laugh.
"May I help you?"
"You have a very thin floor. And I have a very thin ceiling. You also seem to have very thin carpet. You know what this means, right?"
I took a wild guess: "You know about the severed nose?" I'm all for playing coy, but there's also a time when you simply have to respect everybody's intelligence and get matters out into the open.
Preston nodded. "I do."
Chester pushed his way forward. "Give it back! Give it back!"
Preston gave him a serene smile. "All in due time. Your nose is safe, I assure you. It's been hidden. To find it, you'll need to decipher a series of clues, each more perplexing than the last. If you have the wits, perception, and courage to make it to the end, you'll get your precious nose back."
"We really don't have time for this," I informed him.
"Well, make time! You always thought you were so much smarter than me, didn't you? Now you can prove it!"
"I never said I was smarter than you."
"You've implied it."
"I have no idea what you're talking about. Yes, I've said things that are smarter than what you've said and done things that are smarter than what you've done, but I've never been condescending about it."
"Either way, I've hated you from the first — no, second — moment we laid eyes on each other. And now if you want the nose back, you'll have to prove your worth."
"How about we make a deal?" Chester asked. "Give me back my nose and I won't bite off yours?"
"Threaten me all you like. It won't do any good. I have the upper hand, and the only way you'll get what you so desperately seek is to play my little game."
Chester grabbed Preston by the collar, yanked him into my living room, then spun him around and twisted his arm up behind his back. "Give it back, geek!"
"No!"
Chester twisted his arm harder, making Preston cry out in pain. "Give it back or I'll break your arm!"
"No! You have to do the perplexing clues!"
"How many are there?"
"Three."
"That's all?"
"I didn't have a lot of time to think them up."
"Well, either way, we don't have time for this. Give me the nose or I'll break your arm."
"If you break my arm, I'll be non-communicative about the nose because I'll be too busy shrieking in pain."
"It might be worth it. I have a lot of frustration to work off."
"Oh, come on," said Preston, getting that whiny tone in his voice that always annoyed me. "At least look at the first clue. You don't have to do all three."
"No."
"How about this? I'll be with you the whole time, offering hints. That way you're guaranteed not to get stuck."
"What's the point of that?" asked Chester. "It's like playing a video game with a cheat code."
"People play video games with cheat codes all the time. They wouldn't do it if it wasn't fun."
Chester considered that. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."
"So you'll do it?"
"No!" said Chester, twisting Preston's arm back even further. "Give me back my frickin' tongue!"
"Tongue?" Josh asked.
"I meant nose! I'm stressed!"
"We should at least look at the first clue," I said.
Chester glared at me. "Nobody asked you."
"It's my apartment. And I helped save your life. And it sounds kind of fun. And there's no reason to be rude."
"He broke into your apartment and stole a body part. That's a pretty good reason to be rude."
"Everybody knock it off," said Josh. "Every second we stand here arguing, more bacteria is forming on the nose. Let's just look at the first stupid clue so we can move on with our lives."
Chester let go of Preston's arm. "Fine. Whatever."
Preston smiled and took a small white envelope out of his back pocket. He handed it to me with dramatic flourish. I tore it open and glanced at the card inside. "Oh, okay. I know where this is. We've gotta go downstairs."
Preston frowned. "You were supposed to read the clue out loud."
"I don't need to. It's at the birdfeeder."
"But . . . you were supposed to read the clue out loud. That's part of the game."
"If it's the next clue thou seek, look ye where they fill their beak. It's the birdfeeder, right?"
"Yeah." Preston looked so crestfallen that I couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
"I was thinking about the birdfeeder earlier today," I explained. "Otherwise it would have taken me a while to figure it out."
"So why don't you just tell us the next clue instead of making us walk all the way downstairs?" asked Chester.
"Forget it," said Preston with a deep sigh. "Your nose is on the trophy case in my living room."
We hurried down the flight of stairs and went into Preston's apartment.
"It's in my grandfather's urn," Preston said, pointing to a silver urn resting on top of the trophy case.
Chester stopped in his tracks. "Owned by your grandfather or containing your grandfather?"
"Well, he used to be in there. After he was cremated, my mom kept him on her entertainment center, but then she moved into an apartment that was too small for the entertainment center, and the urn didn't go with any of her new furniture, so she asked me to keep it. I didn't really want to keep his ashes at my place, so I poured them out and kept the urn."
"Are you telling me that my nose is in an urn that used to contain cremated remains?" Chester asked.
"I washed it out first. I mean, jeez."
"But there used to be a dead old guy in there?"
"What if your mom gets new furniture that matches the urn?" I asked.
"I'd just burn some newspaper or something. It's not like the ashes had any identifying characteristics."
"If there are dead grandpa as
hes up my nose, I'm going to kill you," said Chester. "Maybe not literally, but it'll feel like it was literally."
"Wouldn't feeling like I was literally being killed just feel like the end of pain?" asked Preston. "I would expect it to be kind of soothing."
Chester glared at him. "Don't make me beat you. I swear I'll beat you. I'll beat you like a drunken hobo. I'll beat you like a beached whale. I'll beat you like a handcuffed panda. I'll —"
"You should really just take the urn so we can get you to the hospital," said Josh.
Chester pushed Preston out of the way and walked over to the entertainment center. He picked up the urn and frowned. "You didn't put the lid on very well." As he lifted it, a roach scurried out of the urn and ran along Chester's arm. He flicked it to the floor, then hurriedly squatted down and poured the contents out onto the carpet. At least ten roaches ran off, leaving behind the nose. It looked a bit nibbled.
"I, uh, thought it had been sealed better," said Preston. "Please don't kill me."
"You let roaches eat my nose!" Chester shouted. "Do you realize how disgusting that is? Do you? Would you want roaches eating your nose?"
"Look at the bright side," I said. "They could have been munching on it while it was still attached."
Chester hit me.
"Everybody calm down," said Josh. "Preston, your careless and sloppy attitude toward my brother's nose is deplorable, but there's nothing we can do about that now."
"Oh, yes there is," said Chester. His eyes carried a spark of insanity. I saw that exact same spark once, in a man at the grocery store who started screaming that the Brussels sprouts were plotting an upcoming apocalypse. At the time, I thought he was just faking it to get a discount on the Brussels sprouts, but now I realized that he'd truly been enveloped by the cloak of madness.
"What's that?" I asked.
Chester pointed at Preston. "His nose. I want his nose."
Yes, there was a definite enveloping by the cloak of madness going on here. "You can't have his nose," Josh said, looking a bit uncomfortable. Preston started to back away.
"I believe I can." Chester grinned. It was not a sane grin. "I believe I will."
At this point, my survival instinct kicked in, and I decided to politely excuse myself from the room. After all, Preston had gotten himself into this mess by carrying our feud and his interest in gaming to ridiculous extremes, and it was up to him to get himself out.
"Well," I said, clearing my throat. "You don't need me anymore. Preston, I wish you all the best in keeping your face intact. Josh, nice meeting you, and if I ever get any mail that was supposed to go to you because we have the same name, I'll be sure to forward it. Chester, sorry about the lack of hospitality you've endured recently, but I think everything will all work out for the best. I'm going to head out for a while, maybe catch a movie if anything good is playing, possibly stop off for a burrito afterward, and I guess I'll see you all later. Have a fine evening."
I walked toward the door, waiting for the almost inevitable moment when one of the three men (most likely Chester) told me to stop. I hadn't yet decided if I would stop or not.
"Where do you think you're going?" Chester asked. The "stop" part was implied.
"I thought I explained it pretty well," I said. "You don't need me anymore. Preston, I wish you all the —"
"You're not going anywhere," said Chester.
"I'm flattered that you want to keep me around," I said, "but I'm really not part of the decision making process anymore."
"I said, you're not going anywhere!" Chester shouted, flinging his nose at me and confirming my "insane" theory beyond all reasonable doubt. His nose struck me on the forehead and stuck there.
I stood there for a moment with his nose on my forehead. After the moment ended, I'm ashamed to admit that I absolutely flipped out.
"Get it off! Get it off!" I screamed, clawing frantically at my face as I ran for the bathroom. I couldn't feel anything on my forehead anymore, but the panic didn't cease. Maybe the nose had absorbed through my flesh and bone! Maybe it was burrowing into my brain! Yes, I knew these thoughts were irrational. It was a very unnerving experience.
I stared into the mirror. There was a small bloody smear on my forehead, but no nose. It had fallen off.
Josh stepped into the bathroom doorway. "You should really calm down," he said.
"I'm fine now."
I didn't much care for the condescending look he was giving me. How macho would he be if a detached body part hit him? Perhaps I'd just scoop up the nose and throw it in his face. Make him catch it in his mouth like a grape.
No, I wouldn't really do that. No need to regress into primal savagery.
Upon closer examination, his look seemed to be less of a condescending one than an appalled one. Had the nose landed someplace else on my body? I tapped my chin, right shoulder, belly button, and left hip, but there was no sign of it. I hoped it hadn't slipped down inside the waist of my pants.
"What?" I asked.
He was staring at my shoes.
My heart sank. I didn't need to look at the bottom of my shoes to know what lurked beneath them.
"You're not going to tell him, are you?" I asked.
Chester pushed past his brother. I backed against the wall as he walked toward me, looking very, very unhappy. His spark of insanity had grown to one of those globes with electricity inside that mad scientists keep on their desks. He held out his hand, palm-up. "Give it back to me."
"It's . . . not currently available."
"Hand it over," he said.
"It got smeared. I'm really sorry."
"If you hurt it, I'm going to cut off your nose," Chester informed me.
I'm not a confrontational person by any stretch of the imagination, but I had to admit that I was getting a little sick of Chester trying to push me around. Who did he think he was? "I don't appreciate your attitude," I told him. "If it weren't for me, you'd still be in that cage. I didn't have to make an effort to get you out. I could've left you there. They could've kept chopping off parts, and I could've kept sticking them in my refrigerator. When I did try to save you, it was with the understanding that I'd be treated with respect. So stop being a dick."
"I appreciate you saving my life," said Chester. "But I'm still going to cut off your nose."
"Why mine? Preston's the one who left yours out for the roaches!"
"His nose looks like a ski jump."
"Well, mine is prone to inflammation and clogging!"
"Stop this, both of you," said Josh. "Nobody is cutting off anybody's nose today. Everybody take a nice deep breath and calm down so we can —"
Chester gave him a violent shove, pushing him out of the bathroom, and then slammed and locked the door. He turned back toward me, looking most menacing indeed.
"We really shouldn't be locked in the bathroom together for very long," I said, trying to add a touch of levity to the situation and postpone the violence. "They'll wonder what we're up to."
Chester seemed completely unamused. I wished that real life came with emoticons so he'd know I was joking. Josh pounded on the door and loudly suggested that matters had gotten slightly out of hand and that it would be a good idea for somebody to let him in.
Chester opened one of the drawers, rifled through the contents for a few seconds, and took out a nail file.
"You know who has a nose very similar to yours?" I asked. "Your brother. If you're looking to do an exchange, he's a much better candidate."
"I'm not going to mutilate my own brother," he said, acting as if I was the insane person standing in the bathroom instead of him.
I have to admit, I was starting to grow weary of these dramatic moments where I had to prove my inner strength. I was comfortable with my inner strength. I just wanted to watch some TV. That said, I couldn't let him file off my nose while waiting for Josh's efforts to kick open the bathroom door to bear fruit, so I had to act.
As he moved toward me, I kicked him in the leg. I'd been a
iming for his face, but my high-kick wasn't well developed. A fleshy glob came off my shoe and smeared on his blue jeans.
"My nose! It's — it's all messed up!" said Chester. "You can't even tell what it's supposed to be!"
"I thought we'd already established that it was ruined."
"I didn't think it would be that bad!"
"I'm actually pretty good with Play-Doh," I said. "I bet if you let me fool around with it, I could smoosh it back into something nose-shaped." Technically, I hadn't used Play-Doh in years, but this seemed like a good bargaining chip.
I'm not sure why he got so mad. It's not as if I compared his nose to Silly Putty.
He bellowed with animalistic rage and attacked me.
It's difficult for me to describe what happened next because it sounds like I'm bragging. Hopefully I've confessed to enough cowardice and poor judgment thus far that my version of these events has credibility, so please believe me when I say that it was the most awesome dodge ever! He swung that nail file at my face, and I moved away at the last possible instant. He missed by millimeters. I grabbed the nail file out of his hand and jabbed it into the top of his head. Not hard enough to puncture his brain or anything — just hard enough to make it stick. Then I swung my foot and tripped him.
He landed flat on his back on the floor. He just lay there, looking confused, as if unsure how he got there. Maybe the blow to the head was exactly what he needed to become less deranged.
The bathroom door burst open, slamming into the nail file and driving it substantially further into Chester's skull.
* * *
Josh, Preston, and I sat on Preston's couch, trying to determine the best course of action.
"The way I see it," Josh began, "we're all equally responsible."
Preston let out an incredulous laugh. "You wish! I didn't poke him in the head with anything."
"Don't make me list your offenses, Clue Boy. Look, I loved my brother dearly, but he was also kind of a cretin. When he's kidnapped and being held for ransom, yeah, I'm gonna try to get him back. When I'm partially responsible for his death, albeit accidentally, and run the risk of a judge trying to make an example of me, I tend to lean in more of a 'let's cover everything up' direction."
"What exactly are you suggesting?" I asked.
