Enzo dictated a story to me this morning where he had a magic drill that would turn you into a skeleton (I had a choice between zombie, skeleton, and ghost, and I chose skeleton).
I was washing dishes, and told him I had to finish them.
“OK, so when you’re done with that dish, then turn to me like this,” and he turns quickly and freezes, “and I’ll turn you into a skeleton. But you’ll still have a face.”
So I did. And he put his magic drill, made from a paper towel tube that’d been unpeeled along the seam, against my breast and wound it very solemnly and made a sound at the end like “pshow”.
“There, you’re a skeleton,” he said.
“Aaah! My hands are bone hands! My head is all smooth!” I said.
“No, you still have a face, remember?”
“Oh, does that mean I still have hair?”
“Yes, and you still have lips and stuff.”
“This is the whole Goblinsmerg family, we’re all skeletons, for the next 80 eons. I was turned into one too, by my great grandfather Goblinsmerg. When you are done being a skeleton, I can give you organ lessons.”