One morning I awake to find that in the six and three quarter hours in which I have been asleep I have grown an improbably long, thick and woolly beard.  I then discover that all three of the jumpers I own have inexplicably vanished in the night.

It is a hot day and I hurry down the road to work, my face sweating from the heavy wool obstruction on my face.  People in the street seem fascinated and stare at my chin so I nip into a shop and buy shaving foam and a razor.

Once at work I try to shave off my woollen growth but find that it is too thick to remove by conventional methods.  The scientists who work in my building fuss around me, offering to do experiments and find other solutions.  Instead I merely take a pair of scissors and hack away at my beard until I am clean shaven.

My jumpers gone, my beard in the bin, I trudge through the rest of the day in a haze of dissatisfaction.

The next morning I awake to find that once more, after just hours of sleep, I am sporting substantial decoration on my face.  It has a slightly smoother texture than the previous day, more like cotton than wool.  I discover that my vast collection of socks is missing.  I phone in sick.

The scissors come out again and once more all evidence of my supernatural nighttime fuzz is gone.  I spend the day pondering my condition, flummoxed by what is happening to me.  I consider going to see a doctor but settle for wandering around my flat, barefoot.

By evening I have formulated a plan. I take all the clothes I own and throw them in cupboards and drawers in the kitchen.  I scour the room for any remaining articles – a stray scarf, a hidden hat, anything that might find its way onto my face whilst I sleep.  I strip my bed of sheets, duvet, pillows and bung them in the cupboards too.  I padlock them shut and seal them with duct tape.

Next I take an old halloween mask and cut it in half.  I pull the elastic over my head and the lower half of the mask covers the vulnerable part of my face.  Duct tape is again used for extra security.

I lay down on my bare bed a naked, shivering, frankenstein-faced wreck and wait and wait and wait for sleep…


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