The problem with a mask is that sometimes you forget how to take it off. Slip-sliding between worlds, I might arrive with a face from some other universe, time line or reality. Spend travel time in total [un]recall: is it twist knob-nose left, then right; or unzip ear-tab a from chin-tab b? Embarrassing, especially when the invitation reads “come are you are.” Just as home tends to be where I’m not, my personae shape-shifts a micronini too slow to suit where I am.
Some places are more accepting of my forgetfulness. No freaking out if you walk downtown in a inside out body-suit, or you have a few too many eye stalks. Plutovians think it’s a tick-toxic challenge, Janusians just look the other way, and Griswaldians chortle laugh-bubbles out their ears.
But Earth, well, that’s another story! Those folks have no sense of humour; an omission here causes public outcry, moral panic and some pretty gruesome reactions in the pre-20ths. Now they make some streaming gloop-show, cinévérité, or vid based on their misunderstanding of a slight lack of attention to detail or forgetfulness. Shazbot! Wonder what they pay alien/zombie/mutant/thingie-of-the-moment consultants?
Now, where did I put my sonic screwdriver? Otherwise, I’ll be stuck with this humanish face when I get to . . .
Conjuring up some silliness for mlmm first line Friday: the problem with a mask is that sometimes you forget how to take it off