It Cannot Get Any Worse
Mr. Puffy-face
Ely and James were creeping through the woods to the side of the house. The woods were more difficult to get through than they expected until they found a deer trail and were making better time. Ely’s face was burning. It hurt and itched like crazy. Why would it itch like that? It was driving him mad and he could hardly stand the pain and itching. He had second thoughts about deciding not to go drown himself in the river.
As they approached the yard, James and Ely stopped behind a woodpile. Ely was making a strange sound. James looked at him and gasped. “Ely your face, it is all read and puffed up and patchy, both sides. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ely made a gibbering sound and began clawing at his face tearing off the ripped shirt that was over his left eye. James laughed at him, "You look like a Mr Puffy face. How are you going to see to shoot anyone?"
As they approached the yard, James and Ely stopped behind a woodpile. Ely was making a strange sound. James looked at him and gasped. “Ely your face, it is all read and puffed up and patchy, both sides. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ely made a gibbering sound and began clawing at his face tearing off the ripped shirt that was over his left eye. James laughed at him, "You look like a Mr Puffy face. How are you going to see to shoot anyone?"