The Waning Hours Of Headless Sensation

     The anesthesia must have worn off prematurely for I was jolted from my sedation with the most intense pain I had ever imagined. I frantically leaped off the table and rushed around the room in a state of panic. This was supposed to be a painless procedure; however, this pain was unbearable.
      The throbbing in my head almost made me nauseous. But the pain must have been imaginary because when I attempted to caress the area that ached, there was nothing there. They removed the entire top of my head above the eyebrows with a device similar to bolt-cutters. They were successful in one regard, for that portion of my head was in fact gone, but somehow I had survived the execution.
      Each member of the execution committee stared at me in disbelief. As I dashed around the room seeking an escape route, the baffled beholders gazed at me, gazed at each other, gazed at the doctor who performed this execution, stunned about what they were witnessing. They began questioning the doctor, interrogating him about the vexation currently at hand. He claimed it was just nerves and assured them not to worry. He kept saying, “He’ll be dead any second now.”
      It’s a widely accepted belief that those persons who recently have had the top portion of their head removed shall die immediately, or at least fall into a comatose state and lose the ability to rationalize thoughts; the headless body shall not be coherent, coupled with the loss of all bodily functions. But then again, these same people also once believed all things orbited the Earth, smoking marijuana was dangerous, capitalism equaled freedom, reality TV was quality entertainment, and The Bible was written by God.
      For having the top of my head removed, I was fairly coherent. I understood what the doctor said perfectly and I agreed I should be dead any second now. But my thoughts did not seem to be fading. I don’t know how this was possible because my brain was apparently gone, or at least the bulk of it, for I was certain the bottom as well as the stem remained intact. I could see and hear, but unsure if I was able to talk. My vision, however, was impaired and everything was disoriented. I was not in calm state of mind. Along with the pain, everything around me raced at a frantic pace.
      Above all, I wanted out of the room and away from these people. The last moment of my life was not about to be spent here. I dashed out the door and into the next room where I stumbled over a stack of cafeteria trays that had fallen from a shiny stainless steel kitchen cart that was obstructing the entrance, as the assembly of executioners chased after me. Once inside and all alone, I fell onto the floor which was carpeted and looked like a contemporary living room. I had no clue where I was, nor did I know where the execution had been attempted. As they chased after me, the doctor kept insisting they not worry, that I’ll be dead any second.
      Despite the circumstances, it felt as if I had longer than “any second,” for it didn’t feel like I was dying at all. But, how well could I trust my own thoughts, being as the brain that should be conjuring them was being disposed of in some executioner’s chamber; I never imagined it would end up that way- such a shameful way to go. I didn’t know what I should do in my last moments of existence. I wanted to visit my parents one last time, I wanted to say goodbye to my mom. Or, I could find my friends and we could do something fun, like we used to back when I had fun, back when life was less complicated, and I realized its meaning.
     How long had it been since I saw my mother or my friends or anybody who would recognize me and sympathize with my current existence? Being as I didn’t even know where I was and I was unsure how to even get there, I doubted whether or not I could find any of them. Still, I knew I had to do something. Had there been spectators for my execution?
       I picked myself up off the floor and dashed through another door and this time locked it behind me. I could hear the mob carrying on noisily while forcefully attempting to enter the room. The only calm voice was the doctor’s who continued to assure them that they had no reason to be alarmed because I was going to be dead any second now.
       Once alone, I tried to gather my thoughts. The fact was I couldn’t remember why I was being executed in the first place. Something I had done didn’t coincide with the majority. They didn’t like what I was thinking, the solutions I developed, the theories I devised, and that’s why my brain had to be removed. They didn’t agree with a concept I was trying to establish.
      Life was never supposed to be like this. I began recollecting my childhood. All I wanted to do was to go back to that time and be a little kid again, back when I was happy. This time I would savor it and never waste a moment. That poor child, playing happily with a cuddly plush animal, that warm smile, now awaiting death after an execution that went awry.
     I could remember my childhood, but not events that happened recently. I don’t know what lead to my demise. How did I go from a frivolous child to being executed in this fashion? I can’t recall the aspects that led me to this, nor do I recall the incident that brought me down? I don’t remember what crime I committed, being arrested, tried, convicted, what jail time I served, or being led to the execution chamber. Perhaps I did nothing and this was merely a murder. Possibly, but I do vaguely remember being ordered to be put to death for some act deemed deviant by the same society that I sought to adapt to, the same society that made Kenny Chesney an idolized superstar and me a renown criminal.
       The pain in my head was excruciating. I constantly kept putting my hands on my head, trying to feel something there. It was a very strange sensation attempting to touch my head and find nothing. I continued trying to pat at it anyhow. I could feel just right above my ear where my head had been removed. The lining was still wet with blood and sort of jagged, which tells me the cut wasn’t clean.
       Somehow, I made my way outside. It was extremely bright and I couldn’t focus on anything. I just wanted to go home and forget about everything and possibly figure out a way to reattach my head, but everything moved too fast and I stumbled as I attempted to walk. People saw me without my head and panicked. I wanted to assure them all was fine but couldn’t enunciate the words. I wanted to inform them of the situation, I just had a short time left, obviously, and I needed to see my family and friends before I died. I wanted to experience something joyous, one last thing before I die any moment now. Maybe I could enjoy myself this time, enjoy something I used to do back when life was good. Or, perhaps I could make amends to whomever I wronged. I could solve the reason why I was executed in the first place and attempt to make that situation better. I could apologize if I ever harmed somebody who was innocent.
     But I think it was because they detested me for something I valued. I’m not sure that I would kill anybody. As a child, I know that would have seemed unfeasible. Maybe I was leading a revolt against a prominent organization- that sounds like something I would do. The execution chamber had a living room and resembled somebody’s house, which I found extremely baffling.
       Was this being conducted in somebody’s home? Was I captured and murdered unjustly? All the rest of these people seemed sympathetic towards me, although frightened about seeing somebody without half of a head. I obviously wasn’t that notorious of a villain, I didn’t seem menacing. Many reached out their hands and even tried to help me.
       The execution committee stormed onto the sidewalk and raced towards me. They encouraged the crowd of people that had gathered around to move away or else they would be shot. The moment I saw them, I tried to flee, but I was unable to move at a reasonable pace. The doctor was still saying all would be well and I would be dead any minute now.
       It was obvious I didn’t have much enjoyment in the latter portion of life. My childhood days turned black somehow. All I ever wanted was to be happy, and relish the same pleasures as everybody else. I just wanted to enjoy maybe one last minute.

     On a stage in an auditorium of a museum, red lights flash periodically while horrifying sounds creep from the speakers mounted on the walls so the audience may hear better. On the picture screen, a man dressed as a chimpanzee leaps frantically and eats berries from a bush on a sunny afternoon until he is viciously whipped for touching the forbidden tree. He groans in agony from the whipping. The room darkens   once again, and the man in the chimpanzee suit hops around in a darkened room, caged. The narrator speaks: