Cherry Pop

I wasn’t born with an expressive face. My face is about as expressive as some really non-expressive DVD packaging. It is my opinion that this has had a negative effect on me throughout my life. It’s probably why I ended up as a funeral director: even when I was elated, I looked impressively miserable. So miserable that it wasn’t uncommon for one of the mourners to come up to me and say something like “Are you alright?”

People used to tell me it’s not true but they were just being nice, of course. It was true. But I found a way to deal with it, and the way I deal with it is this: I move my face around loads. And I mean loads. I learned how to do this on my own in my bedroom. I just have to be careful not to look at myself in the mirror while I’m doing it, because that’s the kind of thing that can give you nightmares–

By moving my face around loads, I have developed a kind of control. I can now smile properly, and not look miserable, and express gratitude, relief, and happiness. But it comes at a price. Every now and then my face will go in to one of its weird spasms. I’ll be fine one minute, and the next I’ll look like a mad man. But it’s a small price to pay for all the doors that have opened up. I’d much rather be successful than work as a funeral director forever, wouldn’t you?