Victor's Secret

When Victor was small, he spent most of his time sitting or lying on the living room carpet. He loved all his toys, but his favourite was the box  full of blocks his parents had bought him for his birthday. He was very creative and, in a few minutes, he would make a tower, a robot or... anything really.

He often talked to himself while he played, or so his parents thought. The truth is he had three invisible friends. One of them was a talking piggy bank who could be a bit annoying at times. Another was a sweet little fairy who always spoke in a whisper, like a breeze dancing among the leaves. His favourite, however, was a headless horseman called Igor.

Victor admired Igor and wanted to be like him. He insisted on wearing his knight disguise everyday to his mother's surprise (he used to hate it). And even though he never asked for anything, he begged till his parents got him a toy horse.

'Thanks, Mum. Thanks, Dad. It's the best present ever,' he said, trotting into the living room after they came back from the toy store.

Time passed and nothing much changed. Victor turned six and there was a party at home with cake and songs and presents. None of the presents was as good as his horse. However, as he was very polite, he smiled at everybody and pretended to like whatever they had bought.

When they had all left, he sat on the carpet again. After a while, he started talking,

'There's something I'll never be able to change, Igor. I'd like to be exactly like you, but I can't.'

Igor, for the first time ever, looked bemused.

'What do you mean?' he asked the little boy.

'Isn't it obvious? I have a head!'

'I don't think that's a problem. Quite the opposite.'

'But...'

'Let's drop the subject, young man. Your time will come.'

When Victor was eleven, he stopped seeing his three friends. It didn't happen all of a sudden, but so gradually that he hardly noticed.

His mum looked at the worn carpet nostalgically while he went out with his buddies and grew up a little bit more every day.

At seventeen, he shocked his conservative parents when he told them what he wanted to do for a living.

'I've decided to be a guitarist.'

'You mean like... play classical music?'

'No,' Victor answered, looking horrified. 'I want to play heavy metal, rock and roll...'

He wasn't able to finish because his dad interrupted him,

'Are you serious? Is this some kind of joke?'

'No, it isn't, Dad.'

A few days later, he came home with a shiny new guitar he'd bought with all the money he'd been saving since he was a small child. It was red. It was a beauty. It had been difficult to choose one. He would have taken them all.

He spent so much time at the music store that the owner offered him a job there. He said yes.

When he wasn't working, he was always playing. His dad wore earplugs, but his mum started enjoying his music.

One day, when the store was about to close for the night, his boss told him he wanted to talk to him. Victor thought he was about to be fired.

'I've been thinking. You're a great player. Why don't you make a few videos and upload them so that people can see them online?'

Victor didn't love the idea because he was very shy, but, after a while, he realised he had nothing to lose.

Once at home in his room, he positioned the camera and started to play. He didn't like the result. He looked terrible, he thought. 

The truth is he looked great, but his self-confidence was taking an extended holiday.

He was about to delete the video, when he heard a voice he had almost forgotten.

'The time has come. You can be exactly like me now.'

'Igor?'

'Yes, it's me. I've been watching you and I'm really proud of everything you've achieved.'

'Thanks, but what do you mean?'

'You don't need your head to play the guitar, just your hands, and it's obvious it's bothering you. I can cut it off.'

'Whaaaat?'

'You heard me. It would be painless.'

Victor thought about it. It was a crazy idea, but he wouldn't have to worry about not being photogenic anymore.

'Okay. You sure it won't hurt?'

'Sure.'

'Just one thing. I'd like to keep my hair.'

And, well, you can imagine the rest.

That's the story of how Victor The Guitar Nerd lost his head. Literally and for good.