CREATIVE WRITING: ‘The White Tipped Demon' by Justin Rutherford
Lisa puffed her cheeks as she stared with disgust into the mirror which revealed the catastrophe residing in the middle of her forehead. The night prior she tweezed her eyebrows, noting a smooth patch of skin in between. The more she stared at the unwelcome growth the larger it looked, the more it mocked her.
“Crap!” She exclaimed, while she took her pointer finger and repeatedly poked the red based, white tipped invader. Even though it stung with each poke, the action somehow made her feel as though she was helping matters. “How did I get a pimple?” She thought as she reminded herself of all the greasy foods she ate in the past few days. Was it the popcorn at the midnight showing of Jennifer’s Body, or maybe the pizza at Jason’s apartment the night before? Whatever the case, the white tipped demon must be purged.
Years of her mother insisting that popping pimples with your fingers would leave scars; left poor Lisa frightful of any bathroom surgery techniques that would ultimately slay the beast. Her first thought was of an insulin syringe used in reverse. She had seen this successfully done by her old roommate at Baylor. The only problem with this unorthodox technique was that she, like most people, did not keep a stock of insulin syringes.
Frustrated, she went to the backyard to have a much deserved smoke. While huffing and puffing away she overheard her neighbor pleading to his five year old daughter to get in the car.
“You have to go to school today sweetheart!” He began.
“Holding your breath isn’t going to work on me, I’m not your mother!”
“Honey please breath your turning purple!”
Lisa then realized what needed to be done. She turned to her sliding glass window which under the morning sun worked as a mirror, dropped her cigarette, and began holding her breath. Her face slowly changed in color from her natural tan to a deep shade of red that matched the base of the pimple.
“I hope this works.” She thought as her face went from red to purple. At thirty seconds she began to worry she might end up inflating the pimple. At around a minute, Lisa promised the heavens that if this worked she would stop smoking. At a minute and a half, while Lisa’s face worked its way from a deep shade of purple to an unusual greenish color; it happened, the faint pop, muffled by Lisa’s gasps for air. Her accomplishment, now visible on the sliding glass. The white ooze mixed with trace amounts of blood held firmly to the once clean glass; it’s reign of terror halted by a childish technique.
