Micheal Feroni stared in awe at the mirror.

Micheal Feroni stared in awe at the mirror. His face-- ...His eyes were bloodshot and sucken back. His eyelids wide open and his long toothy grin flexed back at him. Micheal grabbe

his face in horror. That face wasn't his. It was the face of someone possessed. Micheal dashed out of the bathroom, trying to run away from himself. That's when he heard his voice.

"Michael. Miiiiiiiichael." he threw himself to the ground, covered his head and cried out "What do you want?!" No answer. He mustered the courage to peek out between his fingers.

Tendrils of smoke oozed from Michaels ghostly form. He watched as Michael brushed a finger against his lips faintly before smiling.

Micheal's smile had turned bitter after he died, the edges curling inwards, and he was always watching, eyes wide and unblinking in the dark.

Those glasses were sure as hell helping. He didn't even have to blink anymore! All that was needed to put on the glasses and you could

Barbra Streisand forever and ever and ever more. With the glasses on, everyone looked like Barbra Streisand. His wife looked like Babs in "What's Up Doc?" His doctor looked like

Her male counterpart in the Broadway classic. He grew a goatee and had laser surgery.

slipped him a covert dose of rohypnol and shaved the goatee in despair. But the rohypnol was too strong, and he woke thirty years later to find his peaceful Dutch colony vanished.