Heads

“After all…loosing ones head shouldn’t be much of a problem…” the doctor said bringing near my bed a woman whose head had been severed and was apparently going to experience the routine surgical operation of putting it back. She (the head) looked at me in rage; she asked how come she had been awakened only to see me.
A metal head with a mechanically operated mouth sat on the next bed talking about the efficacies of the system and how good they, the doctors, were at putting heads back together with bodies.
They showed me how they did it. To illustrate, the doctor brought the head of the sleepy woman close to my hospital bed, strapped her from the dirty rag that covered her eyes and immediately wrapped that same rag around her neck making the stump protruding from her head fit snuggly inside her torso. I mean somehow the doctor managed to place it in a correct position and tied it to the body with the dirty rag. It seemed frankly bloody to me, needless to say lacking of all asepsis.
Later another woman shrieked in joy: “Finally, I’ll get a head my size”… I guess the one she was wearing now didn’t belong to her.
I felt silver spiders crawling in my scalp. Tiny silver spiders, I’d better get rid of them.