Sam rushed into his house in anguish, angst and chagrin rushed through his body. He gorged his face with chips, sugar, and everything fatty he could find. He would just have it surgically removed later. And if that wasn’t enough, steroids wouldn’t hurt anyone. He looked into the mirror at his face, it looked like a mask, fake and quixotic, after all the money he had spent to look this good, I guess he was going to have to spend more. His face got more grotesque and grotesque, his body got weaker and weaker. Sam thought this would buffer his pain, make everything okay, but it was getting worse. Eventually, all that was left was a costume, a fake smile, a fake life, Sam was gone, he was buried under botox, cookies, and pain.