dance in the shower kids, no matter how much you want to unleash your inner Michael Jackson, you’ll hurt yourself. I most likely have a concussion, but I can’t get it looked at because I am not allowed to leave this hotel room unless I am getting a soda or any type of drink from the machine across the hall. Did I even write that rule down? I honestly can’t remember much before I fell. The only thing I can remember was my last meal and how good some chicken nuggets would be right now.
January 4, 1999
I don’t know why I told myself to do this experiment. Oh god, why would I do this to myself? Everything just looks so edible, the bed looks edible, and so does the pillow… And so does my arm, and my leg. I wonder what human meat tastes like… Dear lord, what am I thinking. I completely locked myself in this room, no drinks, no nothing. I just locked myself in this room, thinking I cut off everything edible, but I forgot one thing. I’m edible. Oh my god, I never thought I would say this, but my new challenge in this experiment, not eating myself. Please send help.
I need help…
January 5. 1999
I’m done writing for tonight, I really am. I don’t even want to write a report on this day but I have to.
My report on today: I can’t take this much longer. (continued on next page)
Chris Doucette, 2016
Silver Key, Photography
Scholastic Art Awards
THE ROTTEN PUMPKIN