When I was eating, it fell off into my cereal. Splash. Milk spilled all over the table. This wasn’t all that odd. It happens this about every other odd month. At this point in my development, things like this are more of an inconvenience. After I lost my nose, I just phoned my secretary and told her I’d be out for the day. Standard, formal, out of the way. Now, all that was left was to sit and wait. The complications of my affliction are such that I need to stay indoors whenever something like this happens, the obvious reason being my lack of a previously existing nose would cause great concern for my acquaintances and strangers alike, but more specifically the need to just have some distance is, overall, required.

I plucked the nose out of my cereal and continued eating. Unfortunately, by the time I got back to it, the chocolatey bally goodness had turned soggy and depressing. My appetite at this point was utterly and cruelly ruined. And my right middle finger had fallen off as well. Damn it! I should’ve really read up on at home treatments for this, but that’s neither here nor there now. So I sat in my home, all day. Boredom was the primary emotion for today. Sitting in my living room doing nothing. Moments of horror cut through with hot red horror.

First, my hair started falling out. Globs and globs of my hair started to fall with each handful, and then with one ginger tug, off came the scalp. The red-white gap pulsated and bled, pouring out all over my kitchen floor. I quickly got out the mop to clean up. I can deal with many things. Bad coffee, cheap beer, but my oakwood floor? No! I refuse to have that ruined.

By now it was late afternoon and I needed to find some lunch. So I just ordered my favorite club sandwich from a pleasant deli and waited. I heard the doorbell ring and saw the bored deliveryman. His glazed look turned to shock. He saw my face, hideous and deformed, and his scream finally made me realize I had forgotten to cover up. God damnit! The only option available was, of course, to knock him out so he would stop it with that ruckus. I dragged his lumpy body through my living room and propped him up against the bookshelf.

I needed to find a way to get rid of him, but my grumbling stomach told me it had to wait. I sat and thought, glancing over at him, but I realized he wasn’t appropriate enough for the night. Dessert maybe. I continued to ponder as the skin on my arms started to flake. I shouldn’t have scratched. Doc always said not to scratch, but at some point, the itch and ache overcomes any and all types of logic. My skin peeled like cheese in a grater. Strings and clumps started to glob up and tear. Blood had stopped flowing and all that was left was just stiff, almost atrophied muscle. I wasn’t even surprised at this point.

Throughout the remainder of the day, my body continued to rot. By the night, I looked into the mirror and beheld this. My nose of course, was gone. So was my left eye, half of my mouth, and my brain was exposed. Looking over my face, I noticed sticking out of my gum were my two canines, oddly distorted. Those, and my face, were not at the top of my priorities at the moment. Now was time to fix it. The cover of night gave me the perfect cover to hunt, until I found the right spot, and there I saw it. An open window. I crawled inside and surveyed my surroundings. It was a bedroom, gaudily decorated, and smelling. Bizarrely smelling. I was disoriented for several minutes looking around that I had barely recognized the two figures standing in the doorway. One male and female. Both middle-aged and healthy looking. Al they could do was stare into my visage, locked in place by fear. That’s when the smell hit and overpowered the ghastly stench of this room. The smell of fear, with their hearts racing, drumming like a cacophony in my ears, and their blood flowing and splashing like a river.

The man, the fool, overcame that fear and tried to attack me. I had him down in a split second. The woman was crying, screaming, begging me as I stood over her husband. And I grinned, causing my cheeks to split and my one eye to widen. I chomped down on his throat and started to drink. He struggled, she screamed, and I felt a tingle as my body stared to heal itself. The tissue, bone, and flesh all tangling back to their original shape as I sucked the man dry of his juices.

I got up and felt my face, full and formed, my hair long and luscious, and my skin back to its proper place. But I was still hungry. I looked down at the man. He was grey, his face stretched and contorted in a permanent state of horror, a look that I was well familiar with and bored of. Humans always die the same. I turned to find the woman, crouched down and cowering in the hall, too stupid to have run away while I was enjoying her husband. Too stupid to run while I took my time to walk over to her. In the end, she died like her husband. Both like dumb cattle.

When I was done, I enjoyed a leisurely stroll through the park. I stopped to admire an owl swooping through the night. I felt refreshed and alive, so I decided to have a moment to myself and took a seat, feeling the night breeze flowing over my face. A jogger passed by, but when he looked at me, he stumbled and looked back, confused. I glanced back at him, confused as well, but he continued on like nothing had happened. Concerned, I felt my face and…goddamnit! My meal hadn’t regrown my nose. I twitched for a minute in frustration, thinking of something to do. Then I remembered, dessert. I returned to my apartment and found the bored deliveryman, still sitting where I left him. He snored and started to wake up. He barely had enough time to react before I was on top of him and draining him. His blood was the perfect culinary finisher.