The Creepy Head in my Sign

The Creepy Head in my Sign

By Stephen Lipe

         Have I got a story for you!

         Don’t get freaked out. It’s weird.  I’m telling you that right now so you don’t put it down halfway through because it’s too weird.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s also great, but I just don’t think certain people, the close-minded to be specific, would be willing to accept this story as truth.  This really happened to me, which isn’t to say I can completely explain it. I can give you my testimony, though, and that’s worth something. I would say.

         I drive a cab, and if you live in a big city (and maybe other places. I don’t really know), you’ve seen cabs with those big, bulky plastic pieces on their rooftops with the cab number and an ad above that.  I have one of them on mine, and that’s the focus of this story, if you hadn’t gathered from the title.

         Some time ago, the ad was changed during my off-shift by the guys at the garage, which is a normal thing.

         Anyway, here’s the real beginning, that was just background, sorry:

         I arrived that morning still a little drowsy, bought a soda and a pair of pop tarts, and walked to the cab.  As I’m unlocking the door, it suddenly catches my eye the bizarre image of my brand new ad.  It’s a pure white background, the same color as the plastic holding the sign.  The only thing differentiating from that was a big smiling head with white hair.  This head was completely disconnected from a body.  It was just small enough that you could see all around it. Despite that it was clearly trying to sell me and passersby some sort of product, I had no idea what it was, and it was to me simply an ominous odd face that I didn’t like one bit. Actually, I hated it, so there’s that.   

         Anyway, an hour later I was driving down main street looking for a fare when a voice starts in from nowhere, and it’s loud.  It’s low in tone with a southern drawl and it says this:

         “Hamburger? Can you bring me a hamburger?”

         Right away I look behind me just to make sure there isn’t a passenger back there I forgot about.  There isn’t, so that’s good, anyway.  There’s no forgetting a thing like that, though, so I pull over and check again.  Nothing. Nobody. A hungry voice from nowhere!

I say: “Hello?” and it returns!

         “Did you bring any hamburgers?  Man oh man, could I sure go for one right about now.”

         “Who’s that?” I yelled.

         “Hamburgers?” Said the voice.

         I got out of the car, popped the trunk on the way out and checked that. Now, I don’t know why there would be a guy in the trunk talking about getting some burgers, but I mean where was it?

         I walked back to the drivers side door, and before I climbed back inside, that weird head in the sign caught my eye again.

         Ugh. I thought to myself.  Before I looked away, though, another, much more unlikely thing caught my eye.  The eyes of the face in the sign blinked.

         I froze.  I mean I already wasn’t moving, but I froze harder.

         Then his lips moved, and with a smile…

         “Hope you found some hamburgers, ‘cause I sure am starving.”

         By the way, I want to stop the story real quick to point out that this is the spot where I thought certain people would stop reading.  If you’re still interested in hearing more, thanks.  You’re not as close-minded as I was worried you might be. 

         Anyway, I didn’t know what to say to this, so I just said: “How… how do I get a hamburger into the sign?”

         It said: “Man I don’t know nothin’ about that , just give me some hamburgers.”  He never at any point stopped smiling.  It was a friendly smile, too.  He had the demeanor of a dad suggesting what would be good for dinner that night.  Only he wouldn’t shut up about it.  Also he was a head in a sign.

         I drove straight to a Burger Castle drive through, got two burgers (one for me and one for the thing), and parked.  Before eating mine, I climbed onto the trunk lid, grabbed the sign and slid my knees to the roof.  Looking all over it several times, my suspicions were confirmed that I would not find an opening. 

         “Um… I’m not sure there’s anything I can do for you.”

         “Not even hamburgers?”

         “Well, that’s what I mean. I can’t get one in… how did you get in there?”

         “I came in here to find some hamburgers.”

         “That’s not what I’m asking.”

         “Well, let’s discuss it over some good ‘ol hamburgers!”

         “What’s your name?”

         “Hamburgers.”

         “I’m not sure whether to be surprised or not.  That’s really your name?”

         “Bring me one, please.”

         “Oh.”

         I was not yet annoyed, but the feeling that I would be before long was settling over me.  I set the hamburger down on the roof next to the sign just to see if anything would happen, and jumped down, watching.

         “That a hamburger?” it asked, smiling as always.

         “You bet it is.” I answered, my excitement rising with the thought that this might work.

         “Bring it to me, please.”

         “Damn it!”

         I don’t know what I was expecting to happen.  Maybe the burger would rise into the air magically and float into the sign or something.  I certainly wouldn’t have been any more surprised, but no.  The rest of the world was trapped outside, and the sign-face in.

         I grabbed the hamburger and ate mine inside the cab so he wouldn’t see.  I was done for the time being.

         Through the rest of the day, that face would only ever shut up when I had a passenger.  I guess he didn’t want to freak out any more people than he needed to in the quest to get what he wanted.  Every time it was just me again, I had to hear about hamburgers.  Sometimes I was in the mood to play along:

         “Bring any hamburgers?”

         “Hell yes I did, and pretty soon we’re gonna have a hamburger feast the likes of which you’ve never seen!”

         Other times I was not:

         “Hamburgers?”

         “You need to stop.  I didn’t put you in that sign. Stop it.  Stop it right now!  Hamburgers suck.”

         Near the end of my shift, I stopped at a hardware store and bought a hammer.

         “Give me that hamburger please.”

         “What are you blind?  This is a hammer.  I’m gonna try to break a hole in the sign for you.”

         “I got hamburgers on the brain.”

         “I know that.  Now relax, I’m gonna hit the sign pretty hard.”

         WHAPPP!!!

         I whapped the part with the picture, which I guess wasn’t a picture, in the corner away from the sign-face pretty hard.  There was a hollow sound, but nothing happened.  I hit it again even harder.  And harder.  I gave it about ten more good whaps before stopping. 

         “Is that a hamburger?”

         “Is what a hamburger?”

         “That.”

         “What? The sound?  No, a hamburger is a thing.’

         “Would that thing be a hamburger?  Because that sounds pretty good to me!”

         I always figured what makes a person interesting is your lack of ability to predict what they’re gonna say next.  That said, I was starting to lose interest in the sign-face pretty quick.

         “You know,” I said, as I slid off the roof to the ground, “you don’t really need to keep talking at this point.  I get it.  You’re gonna take what I say now and spin it around so it’s about hamburgers, right?”

         “The only thing I wanna take is a good ‘ol hamburger, please!”

         “Ok, see I just told you you’d do that and you still did it.  What’s the point?”

         The sign face was silent at this remark.

         “Thank you.  You did what I asked. Thank you.”

         It was a long drive back to the garage.  The sign-face didn’t say anything, and I started to feel a little guilty about yelling at it.  We’ve all wanted a burger at some point or another.  What would happen if you couldn’t ever get one?  Would you let it go?  Would you become obsessed?  I couldn’t say.  A burger is something that will always eventually find it’s way to you, or you to it. 

          I parked for the night, and with bag over shoulder gave the sign-face one last look for the day.  He wasn’t looking at me, just gazing upward.  Still grinning, but I thought I may have seen sadness in his eyes.  I noticed his head was hovering slightly closer to the bottom of the picture area.

         “Hey, look.” I said. “Sorry I yelled at you.  I realize how great hamburgers are.  You’re right to want them so much.  I guess after having them so readily available my whole life… maybe… maybe I’ve lost touch.  Touch with what?  I’m not sure… but what ever it is, it’s gone, and I’m trying to get it back.”

         “You know what I’d like to get back in touch with?””

         “Don’t make me stop feeling bad for you.”

         “A hamburger.”

         “Yep, and with that, I think I’ll head home.  Maybe I’ll figure something out tomorrow.  Bye, sign-face.”

         “Get some hamburgers while you’re out.”

         “Bye.”

         I went home and went straight to bed.  That isn’t to say I slept much though.  I mean there was a floating head in my sign.  I like figuring stuff out, and when I can’t it bugs me.  Why food?  He doesn’t even have a stomach.  Maybe he doesn’t know what a hamburger is, and what he really wants is a body or something.  I don’t know.  Clearly, the guy has something wrong with his head, but what?

         I had a night mare later on.  In it a bunch of floating heads were chasing me down the street yelling for things that I couldn’t provide. 

         “I could sure go for a kickin’ drum set.” one said.

         “Please bring me five healthy mules.” said another.

         No matter how hard I ran they were floating behind me, grinning like idiots, and relating everything I said back to the stupid thing they were asking for.

         Me: “Leave me alone!”

         Them: “You know what I wouldn’t leave alone? US Steel bonds.  They’re the real deal.  Why don’t you go grab me one of those.”

         “Could you leave me a pencil?”

         “I’ll leave if it’s for a Hershey Bar, design circa 1924.  That’s for sure.”

         I woke up two hours early and wouldn’t nor could I, go back to sleep.  Instead, I poured myself an alarmingly large helping of coffee into a big cup, and stared at one of my walls, thinking some more.

         After coming up with a healthy amount of nothing, I dressed and headed, unshaven (practically un-everything), to the cab garage.  Who knows?  Would he be mad when I got there?  Would he be dead?  How long does it take for a floating head to starve to death?  What if he was dead?  I was a little worried about that?

         It was a long walk to the cab through the garage.  I could see the back of mine sticking out from behind another parked cab.  I couldn’t see the sign yet.  I heard no noise.  My heart was beating a little stronger now.  I wondered again if he’d be dead. 

         Walking closer the sign slowly began to reveal itself.  No head yet.  Now I could see the entire back half.  Pure white.  Did he leave, or escape, I guess?

         Then I saw him, up in the front top corner, pushing against it.  He seemed to be struggling, trying to get out.  I wondered how long he’d been at it…

         “How’s it going, buddy?”  I asked cautiously, not knowing what kind of mood to expect. 

         “Help me, please.” said the head, his voice still cheery, but shaky. 

         “Help you what?”

         “Hamburgers.”

         “Right.  Um… any luck trying to get out?”

         “Yes, please.”

         I stepped over to the front end to survey any potential progress, and was suddenly horrified. 

         There had been progress made, in the form of a jagged hole about the size of a baseball on that front corner.  Here’s the horrifying part:

         A small portion of the forehead was poking out of it.  He had gotten caught on a few of the jagged spots and there were some lines of blood collecting at the roof of the car.  I was not only shocked by the injury, but also at seeing this thing out of the sign.  This thing was real, with skin and blood, apparently.

         “You’re stuck.” I threw out there.

         “Stuck on hamburgers.”

         “No.  Quit that.  You have a real injury.  Uh… what are you gonna do?”

         “Eat.”

         “Let me try.” I walked onto the hood and to the crack.  Looking closely, I saw no spot in the lining of the crack that I could get my fingers into to pull it apart.  The head was wedged in too completely.

         “I’ll try to push you back in.”

         I concentrated my fingers and placed them all against the head.  The skin was warm and soft.  Makes sense I guess:  You spend all your time in a shell, there’s not gonna be much wear and tear.  I gave a good push.  The head moved slightly, but only with the sign.  No progress.

         I kept pushing a few more times and got frustrated.

         “I’m gonna try something, but this might hurt.  I’m gonna kick your head back in.  Is that okay?”

         “Kick some hamburgers back in while you’re at it.”

         “So that’s okay, then?”

         “I’m ready to eat!”

         “Okay, here goes…”

         I stood up on the hood and raised up my right foot in what I can only guess is some sort of karate stance people use before kicking something.  Then I did it.  Hard.

         There was the head again, partially dislodged now, one little jagged edge at the top of the crack dug into the head pretty deep, though.  The exposed portion looked pitiful:  Blood all over, and now it had a light gray design of the bottom of a tennis shoe etched onto it.

         “All right, I think I can get you loose now.”

         On a knee, I gently slid the skin off the sharp spot, trying not to throw up all over it the whole time. 

         It came loose, and two things happened, one kinda fun and one terrible.  First, upon being off the plastic, the head free-floated weightless back to the middle of the sign.  I wish I’d had more time to think about that, though, because at the same time the injured spot began spurting blood like a hose.  I mean it was flying out of the side of his head and hitting the side wall at a pretty good speed. 

         “Whoa.  Oh shit.”  I said.

         “I could sure go for some…uh…some…you know.” Said the head as his eyes drifted toward the blood jet.

         “We have a serious problem here.” I said.

         The face kept smiling.  “Send me Doctor Hamburger.”

         “What!?” I yelled, noticing that the blood was falling to the bottom of the sign, creating a rising pool. 

         The face’s eyes moved downward. “That’s the only thing that can…uh…hoo boy.”

         I can’t express the level of urgency that suddenly caught me.  We didn’t have much time, here.  I don’t know how much blood a floating head has to live on, but at this  rate, he’d drown in about ten minutes, so either way.  I didn’t know exactly what I could do, but I had one idea. 

         “Alright, we’re going for a drive.” I said. 

         “This is a hambur-car.”

         “The blood loss is making you even stupider!” I said, worried, as I jumped in.

         The blood sloshed around from the driving.  I hoped I wouldn’t get pulled over.  No time for that.

         My other fear of getting pulled over was if the head died before the cop walked up, because then I’d just be a guy driving around with a human head floating in a pool of blood. 

         As luck would have it, though, I made it to the Burger Castle problem-free.  The sign was half full of blood now, the head bobbing up and down slightly in it.

         “I’d like a hamburger.” I said to the speaker.

         “I need more information than that.” said the speaker.

         “Oh yeah, sorry.  I’ll…Ill have the best burger on the menu!”

         “Well, that’s a matter of opinion.”

         “Listen you son of a bitch!  You are killing my friend right now!  Get it and I’m pulling around!”

         I pulled around to the window.  It seemed to take forever for the guy to walk up.

         “How you doing up there?” I yelled at my ceiling.

         “Bring some… some uh… where am I?”

         The guy finally arrived with a large bag of something.  I’m glad he figured it out. 

         “That’ll be $16.95, sir.”

         “What!?  I just wanted a burger!”

         “This is the new Super Meat BC Ultra Burger Explosion.  It may be the best.  Or not.  But it’s certainly the most grand.  And it’s $16.95.

         “Fine!” I gave him a 20 and grabbed the bag. 

         Then the head got all excited.

         “Is that what I think it…HAMBURGERS!!!”

         The window guy looked up at the dumb blood-spurting face and stared blankly. 

         I felt I had to comment, so I said:

         “If you tell anyone about this, it’ll be your head floating in there yelling shit!”

         I don’t know why I said that.  I didn’t even really care if he told anybody.  It just sounded right at the time.  I think it was the adrenaline talking.

         I parked quickly, the car lurched forward another inch on account of the blood surge.

         “Have I got a treat for you, sign-face!”

         “Burger?”

         “More like a burger explosion!”

         Up on the hood, I pulled the wrapped treat out of the bag, which, by the way, was about five times bigger than my hand.  As I unwrapped it, condiments and toppings I didn’t even recognize (along with the ones I did) came spilling out.  This was certainly one intense burger. 

         The opening, like I said, was about the size of a baseball, and although burgers are soft, there was no use trying to shove this monster in whole.  I ripped off a chunk.  Sauces of all colors and smells plopped all over the car and covered my hands.

         “Here goes!”

         I dropped the chunk into the hole.  It ker-plunked into the blood pool and came apart as it bobbed up and down.  The face’s eyes opened wide, and he started to sing:

“Me and my burger,

Eating food, yeah,

Me and my burger,

Time to eat some food.”

         It was the worst song I’d ever heard, but I didn’t mind.  As he sang, he floated over to the pieces and gobbled them up like some morbid, live-action pac-man.

         I kept ripping off bits and tossing them in.  He kept eating them while continuing to sing the song, with his mouth full of hamburger and blood.

         Finally, the food was gone and eaten, and I jumped down to the ground, watching to see what would happen next. 

         “How do you feel?” I asked.

         The face looked at me with the same old smile, but it seemed, this time, to have new meaning.  Oh and his head had stopped bleeding.  Then he spoke calmly, and with a voice that had about fifty points added to it’s IQ, he said:

         “Thanks for the burger, friend.  And now it’s time for me to go.”

         His head floated to the top of the sign, and pressed up against it.  He started groaning from the strain, really pushing.

         Then suddenly, the car’s wheels lifted off the ground and the whole vehicle began to float upward to the sky.

         “Good bye!” he yelled.  “I’ll never forget you!”

         “Wait!  My stuff’s in there!”

         “Oh, shit! Hold on…” reassured the face from about fifty feet up.  “I only need the sign.”

         The whole contraption began to shake violently, then the car came loose from the sign, going into a freefall and finally landing on another car, destroying it.  Somehow, my car seemed fine.

         “Good bye, face!” I yelled, waving, smiling.

         “Good bye!  Good bye!”  I heard, faintly. 

         I heard footsteps.  Turning around, I saw it was the guy from the window, coming to witness the spectacle, I assume.

         “My car!” yelled the guy, horrified.

         “Oh, shit!” I said, and laughed uproariously.  And I’m not sure, but I think I heard laughter coming very faintly from the sky as well.  A glorious onlooker, belonging now only to the stars.



The End