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One Day I Woke Up With A Zit On My Nose, The Little Devils!

I said in a panicked and surprised manner, “Dear Head, I beg you to please take your meeting someplace else. I can’t have talking pimples on my face.”

I said in a panicked and surprised manner, “Dear Head, I beg you to please take your meeting someplace else. I can’t have talking pimples on my face.”

One day I woke up quite refreshed, ready for the big day I had ahead of me. I was finally on the debate team and today was the first competition. I got ready and started doing my hair when I realized that I had a huge zit on my nose. The first thought that came to my mind was that I looked like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

“Uhhg!” I said. First thing in the morning that I have to deal with is a zit. I said out loud, “I wonder what else could go wrong today?”

Oh! But things did get worse. While I was looking for a concealer, the zit started to move a little and suddenly I screamed when I saw two little eyes and a small twisted mouth bulge out of it.

“AHHH!” I screamed! Almost waking up the whole family. Thankfully, my room was on the third floor, so I knew my voice wasn’t heard by my parents.

I looked down the stair to make sure no one was there. By the time I came back to my room I saw at least ten pimples on my face all of them possessing a tiny little face.

It just so seemed that the pimples then broke into a casual conversation as if they had just come out of their homes to catch up on the latest gossip.

“Hi Linda! How are the kids? I hope Frank has quit smoking.” Said a pimple on my left cheek.

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“Oh well, the kids are doing good,” Linda answered. He then turned toward his neighbouring pimple and said, “At least they’re doing better than your kids.” Both the pimples burst out laughing.

“Hey! Do you know who just sent her kid to school without her history assignment third time in a row?” asked Linda.

“No way! Is it the Hoffmans?… well I wouldn’t blame them for doing so,” replied Pimple Claire.

“The Hoffmans have enough problems as it is. Did you see Gloria with the thermos of Chardonnay yesterday at our kid’s soccer practice?” Pimple Jennifer joined the conversation.

“Now, now ladies, we haven’t gathered here just so you could catch up with our gossip… quiet now and listen to what the Head has to say.” Jack, the head’s assistant announces.

The three female pimples muttered something inaudible and threw dark glances at Jack before stopping their conversation.

The Head was the giant zit right on top of my nose who said, “We have gathered here today for a grave matter my dear family and friends. We must decide that who shall be chosen for this blissful yet tedious job and I have finally decided that this year the Williams will host the Thanksgiving Dinner.”

A round of applause was given to the three measly looking pimples who stood right at the corner of my lower left cheek. Before any of their merry-making could progress further, I cough a bit to make them aware of my presence. I was so worried that I wasn’t even amused by the fact how they considered Thanksgiving Dinner a ‘grave’ matter.

I said in a panicked and surprised manner, “Dear Head, I beg you to please take your meeting someplace else. I can’t have talking pimples on my face.”

“Silly human! Do you know what an auspicious event you’ve ruined? Now we shall not oblige to your request. We would have been done in another 5-10 minutes, but now I like it here and this could be my permanent residence.”

“Well if you won’t budge, then I guess I’ll just have to pop you!” I said and popped one of the Williams.

Enraged by my actions the Head ordered rest of the pimples to show themselves, saying so, suddenly the pimples on my face tripled in number. The oozing little devils were suddenly becoming painful.

I couldn’t take it anymore, so finally I went to my mother crying. Since she was half awake, I had to wait for her to gain full consciousness. At first she thought that I was babbling like a maniac, but she soon saw the funny looking pimples, who were now yelling at me angrily.

First my mother screamed at me, “What in the world were you thinking! I…I how-ho… I don’t even know what to say to you.” She paused for a moment, calmed down and said, “Let’s go to the dermatologist quickly.”

We both got in the car and my mother drove as fast as she could. By now I could hear the pimples taking a pledge, “We the pimples pledge that we shall be responsible, faithful and staunch while doing our duties. We shall never get off the face of the girl named… .”

I couldn’t hear any further as my mother announced, “We are here.”

We entered the dermatologist’s clinic and waited for our turn. Many people passed us and most of them gave me peculiar looks. After about a half hour’s waited I was finally called into the room. We both went inside and told the doctor about this incident.

The doctor sat patiently as he listened to my story and then pondered for a moment. He finally said, “Well now I have no choice, but to cut of this poor girl’s face.” And he turned into a green devil with bulging yellow eyes, a pointed tail and a hooked nose.

The room turned dark looming with thunderous clouds and as I turn around to see my mother, she turned into a gargoyle. Both the monsters came towards me with a knife and fork in their hands, licking their grotesque lips.

Just when they were about to catch hold of me, I fell off the bed and woke up to realize that it was only a dream. I looked at the clock, it showed two o’clock. They say dreams are manifestations of our subconscious. They in a way are reflections of what we feel during the day, although for some they are joyful escapades that help them relax. I have a whole lot of them sometimes funny, scary, gory, just plain and simple and sometime downright nonsensical. I prefer not to have them.

Next day when I was getting ready for school, I saw that I really had a tiny pimple on my forehead, which reminded me of my nonsensical dream!

The author of this piece, Pritha Doegar, is a Class VII student, Auckland House School, Shimla.

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A young girl passionate about reading, music and art. read more...

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