By Jim Doran
“Have you ever wondered how much skin weighs?” The question floated from my car’s speakers as I raced down the expressway, heading home from college for Thanksgiving break.
I rolled my eyes while answering Madison. “Yes, that question is on my mind all the time.”
She’s used to my snark. “You’d be surprised. It’s twenty percent of our body weight. Skin’s usually our heaviest organ.”
Madison has been obsessed with her weight since I met her sophomore year at James Carter High while working on a project; in particular, the September 11 terrorist attacks on the United States. We both lost someone when the towers fell—her Grandpa Chris and my Great Aunt Betty. This gruesome connection bonded us together.
In high school, Madison was at least fifty pounds heavier than the other girls. They picked on her mercilessly. As a result, she trusted few people. I was fortunate enough to be her friend and advised her to ignore the others’ taunts. I told her people made fun of my height of five feet two inches, but I shrugged it off.
Three years later, Madison still hadn’t learned to be comfortable with herself. I recalled her recent texts and selfies.
“The only skin I want to talk about this weekend is dark or white meat on the turkey on the table.” I took a deep breath. “Heeeyyy…you aren’t still taking those Daryburb pills to lose weight, are you? That stuff is dangerous.”
“You mean miraculous.” Her voice filled with awe. “Wait until you see me, Wildcat.”
“I’ve seen the pictures. You’ve dropped some serious pounds.”
Madison chortled. “And sacrificed nothing. I eat as much as I want.”
Frustrated, I gripped my steering wheel. “Maddy! There’s something in that crap that can’t be good. Otherwise, they’d mass market it rather than hide it on some obscure webpage.”
“Oh, Will. You’re so skeptical.”
“And you’re so gullible.”
“I’m forty pounds less gullible now.”
I whistled in surprise. “Forty pounds in two months! Are you kidding?”
Madison’s fluttering laugh filled the car. “Are we hanging out on Friday? You haven’t been back since you left for Kentucky, Wildcat.”
“Stop calling me my college’s mascot. And stop taking the pills, Maddy.” I returned to her odd question from a few moments before. “And there’s nothing you can do about your skin. You’re stuck with it.”
“You think?”
“I know. Hey, I crossed the Missouri state line twenty minutes ago so I’m almost home. Call me after dinner with your parents, and we’ll make plans for Friday. Just like high school.”
“Just like high school. Roger and out, Wildcat.”
I grinned while thumbing the off button on my steering wheel. Friends and family. Isn’t that what Thanksgiving is all about? I couldn’t wait to see Maddy again.
Three miles from my exit, I licked my lips while dreaming of my mom’s succulent turkey. Add candied, melt-in-your-mouth yams as a side dish to top it off. And then my favorite dessert—gooey butter cake. I’d pack on a few pounds this weekend.
But Madison wouldn’t. I wish she’d stop taking those weird pills. No weight gain and eat all you want? Impossible. And now she’s worried about the weight of her skin? You lose weight from your body fat, not your skin.
You think?
Her response made me cringe. I’d dismissed her too quickly. Why the fascination with her skin? I should surprise her tonight with a visit. Make her promise to indulge this holiday, sans pills.
I raced past my exit. Madison’s apartment was five miles farther, and I accelerated, hoping the police weren’t actively patrolling. Only two stoplights and a left-hand turn, and I’d pull into her parking lot.
Unfortunately, both traffic signals delayed my arrival, and finding a parking spot took longer than I expected. A light shone through the blinds of her apartment window. Grabbing my phone, I called her as I entered the complex and climbed the stairs to her unit. She hadn’t answered by the time I stood outside her door.
Knocking, I announced my presence. “Maddy. It’s Will. Surprise! I thought I’d come by tonight.”
No one answered, and I considered my options. I shouldn’t enter, but what if Madison was in trouble? Those dumb pills… and the skin question would keep me awake tonight if I didn’t check on her.
I punched in the combination on her keypad, twisted the handle, and pushed the door open. “Madison?”
Instead of her voice, a noise like sizzling bacon answered me. Fizz… pop. Was she cooking this late at night?
I strolled into the kitchen. No one there. Returning to the living room, I noticed an open package on the table with a set of jars. The name on their lids caught my eye. Daryburb.
I grabbed a jar and read the label: Slimskin. Reduce the mass of your skin. I read the directions. “Madison!”
Fizz… pop.
The sound emanated from her bedroom. I rushed down the hall, thinking of what I’d read on the jar’s label. “Slim down! Eliminates those pesky, unneeded layers of the epidermis and dermis. Caution: may induce drowsiness.”
When I reached the bedroom entrance, I clutched the doorjamb. An empty bottle of Slimskin lay on its side on the floor. And next to it? At first, I thought of one of those human body models we had in Biology class with the exposed internal organs. But this one was breathing…
Fizz… pop.
And then the blood started flowing.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
creepy, but creepy good…
Thank you for reading.
Another good one! Yikes.
Thank you, Lisa.
So mysterious! I really enjoyed the suspense in this. At first I thought Will had a talking car with personality.
This is havok and anything fantasy goes maybe you write a follow up where it becomes the origin story of Will getting a talking car as he saves Maddison by putting her into a machine. I love a happy ending and it’s not too late yet haha.
I find mobile phones weird in that, if you’re not paying attention, it seems like people are talking to themselves. Thank you for reading.
I really liked it, but it appears that it was an unhappy ending. It was also a surprise ending.
Ken
Thank you for reading, Ken.
I kept grimacing as I read, knowing things weren’t going to turn out well for Madison. Good skintillating story!
I have to admit that your pun is pretty funny. Thanks for reading, Greg.
Greg = Arlan. Arrrg! Curse you, send button!
I may not sleep tonight…
Thank heaven that we have the right to choose contentment with ourselves!
It is a blessing.
No, no, no… I’d thought that might be the twist but was hoping I’d be wrong… very well written, though!