Bob

There was a severed head in Leon's locker.

As he opened the door, an ooze of blood and a putrid waft of decaying flesh swept out, nauseating him even as it horrified him. Hesitant, he reached out to turn it around, unable to resist the horrid fascination of the question: whose head was it?

It was his.

Leon stood, shocked, unable to look away. There it was, the face he shaved every morning, looking, perhaps, a little worse for wear. Leon stared at the head. Leon's head stared back.

A little noise — a scream, maybe — squeaked out of Leon's throat. Without conscious volition, he slammed shut the locker door.

"Did you figure out what that smell was?"

Leon jumped, having forgotten the other was in the room

"N-," he cleared his throat, trying to knock the block out of it. "No," he said. "Nothing over here."

He couldn't tell Carl the smell was his head. It was impossible. It was ... impossible. He told himself that again, but he still couldn't get the sight out of his mind's eye.

"So, nothing is making that smell? That's the smelliest nothing I've ever encountered." Carl walked toward him. Leon watched him nervously.

"Stop," Leon reached out to him, blocking his way. "It's ... Let's just get out of here. I want to go far away. London. Maybe Pluto."

"What the hell are you talking about, Leonard?" Carl never used his full name unless he was nervous.

"Please..."

"It's your head, isn't it?" Which was about the most surprising question he could have asked.

Carl shook his head. "For the love of God Leon, what is it with you and your head? Last week, it was intentionally deformed dwarfs and now this. We should revoke your library privileges."

Leon found he couldn't talk. It was as if his mouth wasn't there. And then his vision went dark. Were those the slats on the inside of the locker?

Suddenly able to talk again Leon told Carl: "Would you cut that out! I've been freaked out enough by everything that's happened. I should've listened to my horoscope and not gotten out of bed today."

Suddenly, a dust bunny rolled out from in between the locker slats, plopping to the floor. "Um- hi," it said.

Carl screamed, shrilly and stepped on it. "Oh God, it talks!"

Suddenly it went backwards, like time itself were rewinding. Carl shut his mouth and lifted his foot and the dust bunny rolled back up the locker and inside.

"... Bed today," Carl complained. "Geez, Leon-"

Leon pointed at the locker. "Is it just me, or did a talking dust bunny come from there? Did it mess with time?"

The dust bunny peeked out of a slat. "I'm good at origami, too."

As you know, Bob, Carl and Leon are both not the owners of the head even if it does look like Leon, and even if Carl is pretending it is Leon, it definitely is not Leon!

"We should never have started that clone lab in the basement," Leon said, and not for the first time.

Sure, you can make money on clones, but you have to split the profits so much it hardly seems worthwhile.

"I wish we'd just stuck with plumbing." Leon shook his head.

"It's not too late to send the clones to trade school?" Carl looked hopeful. "They could be the plumbers?"

"I think it's too late," Leon said, still eying the locker suspiciously. If the clones were getting restless enough to resort to murder and smelly pranks, they were probably past the point where schooling would help.

No, he was pretty sure the clones needed to go to Boot Camp.

Leon gathered up his head before he lost it again and told Carl, "Get the van, we'll tell them we're going to Disneyland." Two hours later, we were under way. There was some pretty ominous noises coming from the back of the vehicle while Carl tried to push the speed limit.

"Do you think we should stop?" Carl said.

Leon shook his head, then threw it out the window.