Wafflehead

“Help! I’m being chased by a waffle!” Amber screamed.
“You are being chased by a what?” I asked.
“I am being chased by a big, fat waffle!” yelled Amber.
“Wafflehead! Wafflehead!” screamed the other kids.
I, Ashley, stopped fast. I looked down at my feet. Waffle feet. I looked at my arms. Waffle arms. I looked at my body. It was like a waffle, too.
“Do I still have hair?” I asked Amber.
“Only a little.”
“Can you still see my eyes?”
“Only a little, but they are flat and long.”
“Is my body flat in the front and flat in the back?”
“Yes,” she said, “You look just like a big waffle.”
“Help, me, Amber. Take me to the nurse.”
“I will,” said Amber, “if someone does not eat you first.”

We tried to walk to the nurse.

Kids tried to bite me. They tried to pull on my legs. They tried to rip off a part of my waffle. It was not pretty. It did not feel good.

The nurse called 911. She said I looked strange. I had to go home. I had to go to bed. Maybe I will be back to myself in the morning.