Standing on their family's front porch and dramatically reading a large and fully unfolded newspaper was Michelle's mother Pamela, everything above her belly button save for the tips of her fingers concealed by the massive paper. "Shit." Michelle said in your arms, her body slowing down and awkwardly wrapping its right arm around her stomach with her fingers curled. You noticed briefly that her nails were short and well chewed, and remembered the way Michelle would nervously chew her nails whenever she was scared or uncomfortable. It seems that decapitation hadn't stopped her from developing that nervous that tick, though it did change its exact motion. "She wasn't supposed to be home for another hour..." She whispered.
Hearing her daughter's footsteps coming up the path to the house, Pamela lowered the newspaper and revealed her very much still attached head. You were almost a little disappointed to see Michelle's mother still fully intact, you'd half expected the reality change to have changed her too, though you supposed that that may have been too much wishful thinking. "Well well well, look who deigned to grace this humble abode with her presence!" Pamela said, checking her wrist which currently had a massive watch surely meant for Michelle's father's wrist strapped to it. "And only half an hour after curfew! Why, it must be my birthday!"
"Sorry, mom." Michelle answered sheepishly. "I just wanted to hang out at John's house for a little while. I know I should've called and asked for permission first, but I forgot. Honest!"
"Hm." Pamela responded, clearly not believing her obviously lying daughter. Turning her attention to you, Pamela said "Hello, John. Since I was miraculously able to get home from work early, and wanted to surprise my wonderful, caring, rule abiding family with a nice homemade meal to show how much I appreciate their honesty and-"
"ALRIGHT, I GET IT! I'M SORRY! I WILL TEXT YOU NEXT TIME!" Michelle interrupted, her cheeks warming your palms and her body stamping its foot like a child throwing a tantrum.
"love." she continued, not batting an eye at Michelle's outburst. "Dinner is almost ready. Would you care to join us? I'm sure you must've built up a sweat, carrying that dumbbell with you all the way here." She asked, emphasizing the 'dumb' in dumbbell to make extra sure that her wordplay was not missed.
You were, in fact, actually kind of hungry. And Michelle's head actually was kind of heavy. And you did want to spend as much time with your headless girlfriend as possible tonight. "Uh, sure thing. Thanks, P-uh, Ella." You said, remembering Pamela's preferred form of address at the last possible second. She hated Pamela, as their family's last name was Von Hess which was close enough to Voorhees that by the time Pamela Von Hess was thirty she'd heard, by her own count, about a million and two Friday the 13th jokes. She hated the nickname Pam for the much simpler reason of not wanting to be named after a cooking utensil, which just left her with Ella.
"Nice save." Pamela joked, though her tone indicated at least a little genuine appreciation for the effort. "Anyway, you two knuckleheads get inside and wash your hands. Paul and Nina will be home in a few minutes, and once everyone's at the table I'll serve you." She stepped aside, ushering you and Michelle inside. Following your girlfriend's body as it plodded into the home, trying to keep enough distance so that Michelle's face and ass wouldn't bump into each other if she stopped abruptly, you were immediately greeted by the warm smell of beef stroganoff emanating from the kitchen. Looking around the living room as you passed it on the way to the bathroom, you saw that just about everything was the same. Same couches, same chairs, same tables, same TV, only two differences caught your attention. One, there was a small, green ottoman set directly beside the couch with a suspiciously head shaped indent in its well worn surface. Two, the red raincoat that Michelle always kept by the door had vanished, and in its place there was a poncho sharing the same red color as the old coat, along with what appeared to be a transluscent plastic bowling ball bag. You supposed she didn't need the hood if she didn't have a head to cover, and she still needed something that would cover her relocated head.
Walking to the bathroom with your girlfriend, Michelle washed her hands first, then took her head back as you washed your own hands. You almost felt a little sad as you handed her head back, having enjoyed carrying around the cute, warm, and talkative little accessory, though seeing your headless girlfriend holding her own head at her side and giving you an embarrassed but happy smile was rather cute too. As you finished drying your hands, you heard the front door of Michelle's house swing open. "Oh, look who's back from soccer practice! And just on time!" You heard Pamela call from the kitchen, Michelle's eyes rolling at her mother's insistence on rubbing her nose in her incredibly minor act of rebellion.
"Hi mom!" Nina, Michelle's younger sister of two years, called out happily.
"Hello my love!" Paul, Michelle and Nina's father and Pamela's husband, said shortly afterwards, shutting the door behind him.
"Come on, let's get to the table before mom accuses me of being late to that too." Michelle said.
Following your girlfriend back into the main hallway, you saw Nina and Paul, and were forced to use every ounce of willpower in your body not to jump up in shock. The sword HAD altered more than just Michelle in this new reality, for standing there at the end of the hallway was...
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