Notes from Marti:

This story was sent in by a reader who found it in an early Centurian publication titled "Nostalgia Bizarre and Unusual". As usual there is no copyright or date in the magazine catalog. Judging from the advertisements for other Centurian publications, it seems to predate the issue in which the "Trick or Treat" story was printed, sometime in the 1970's.

The entire magazine was printed in black and white and the story had several pictures included showing the masks which Centurian had for sale. Several of these pictures we have seen before in other magazines, however, several were also new to me. I will include them on the Centurian page in the near future although they are of poor quality and not in color. I think you will find one of the head designs has rather unusual eyes unlike any we have seen before.

The story below appeared under the title; "RUBBER MASKS, A Change of Identity". The preface reads: The story attempts to show one of a wide range of uses for a new product (a rubber head that simulates a human). It also describes the feelings and attitudes of the wearer and the viewer in general terms. The material is not a report or description of actual persons, alive or dead, who may have worn these heads. In particular, the writer wants to make clear that the kind of implied racial disharmony depicted in the story is not intended as a commentary on the attitudes of white or black people, but is merely used as a story telling device. The writer does not share these views himself. Any use of the heads by purchasers is done at their own risk, considering the fact that some people experience claustrophobia when their heads or bodies are enclosed.

EDITOR NOTE

I was on hand to see the photography of these masks taken. It was one of the weirdest sensations I have ever witnessed! First, you are used to seeing this girl in front of you. Then all of a sudden she 's transformed into another person! It is really shocking! The thick rubber masks lace up the back and mold perfectly to the facial structure. It looks just like a real face, lipstick, eye lashes, rouge, liner and all. It's so tight fitting you can stick your tongue out the mouth and it seems to be naturally your face. You can talk, see through the eyes, breathe, etc. Of course, as long as I was there, I had to try one on. It is fantastic! You assume a different identity!

WHITE IS BLACK - The Painful Proof

Author Unknown

Kathy and Emmy Lou had been friends for a long time. They worked in the same doctor's office, ate lunch together, sometimes even had a drink after work. Emmy Lou was a beautiful, intelligent girl who never gave a thought to being black - she felt she was just a person, a college graduate with a nice job and a good life. But Kathy, for all her pose of acceptance, could never really quite get used to Emmy Lou's color. When it came to double dating or going out in the evenings, she never included Emmy Lou in her plans.

One day Emmy Lou decided to change all this. She invited Kathy back to her apartment; because others heard her make the invitation, Kathy had to accept or 'lose face'. Kathy did not realize it at the time, but she was in for an evening she would never forget, one that would teach her a painful lesson about black and white!

A Plan To Educate Kathy

Once at her apartment with Kathy, relaxed over a tall, cool drink, Emmy Lou put her plan into action. Her manner was casual and easygoing. "Have you ever had a bad habit you've wanted to correct?" she asked Kathy innocently. Kathy thought for a moment. "Not that I can remember," she answered. "Well, I did" continued Emmy Lou, "and I found a way to fix it for good."

Emmy Lou looked carefully at Kathy to detect any sign of nervousness or other adverse reaction. The white girl seemed ease, merely curious and mildly interested, not concerned or nervous. "It was a simple thing," said Emmy Lou. "I used to bite my fingernails, and I sure wanted to stop 'cause they started to look ugly. My mom used to paint some bitter-tasting medicine on my nails to deter me, but in the end I got to liking it and went back to biting them.

"Then, one day, she got real mad at me, 'Emmy Lou.,' she said, 'I'm going to stop that nail biting of yours once and for all. I'm going to get those hands down from that mouth if it's the last thing I do.' Before you know it, she'd got two little straps with buckles, and one longer strap, and she'd pinned my elbows together across my back. My hands were free, but I couldn't touch the straps, see? Then she threw my cardigan over my shoulders, and said; 'You're going to spend the day like that, Emmy Lou. No one will know, 'cause they won't be able the see that neat harness under your cardigan. You can come shopping with me, and to the movies, and sit around the house and watch TV, but you're not going to bite those nails. And if you want me to help you eat or drink at lunch or dinner, you'd better behave.' And you know I had to go along with Mom, because I was helpless even though I wasn't uncomfortable. And I sure couldn't get my hands to my mouth - no way!"

The Demonstration

Emmy Lou slipped into the bedroom, and came back with the three simple straps. "See," she explained to Kathy, "one strap goes around one arm, just above the elbow, like this." As she spoke, she slipped the straps onto Kathy's arms and buckled them. Kathy seemed more interested in the concept and its method than in realizing what was actually happening to her. "Then the cross strap went across the back, like…so." Emmy Lou cinched the buckle tight, and Kathy's elbows came in tight to her sides. And her back straightened up, forcing her pretty breasts up and out against her white office uniform.

Kathy laughed, still very amused by the process. "You're right, Emmy Lou - I can't reach my mouth, and I can't get at the straps to undo them. I'm helpless, but with at least a little better posture. Now undo them, Emmy Lou, so I can finish my drink and go home." Emmy Lou looked at her hard; "I was going to tell you what Mom did when I complained," she said. "When I threatened to yell and tell the neighbors, my mom fixed me real good. She got a real neat piece of molded foam rubber, and pushed it into my mouth. My tongue went right into the middle of it, and it filled my mouth completely, but you couldn't even tell it was there, because it squashed down inside my teeth completely. But I couldn't utter a sound, 'cepting perhaps a tiny, muffled squeak.

Silence is Golden

Emmy Lou opened her purse. "Here it is," she said. "And now, just to make sure you don't complain, let's slip it into your mouth, nice and easy." Deftly she forced the white foam rubber molding between Kathy's teeth, tucked it away neatly, and closed her jaws. "There you are, honey child, all safe and secure. With your cardigan around your shoulders, and a little dab of lipstick where it got smudged, we could take you anywhere we wanted, in public even, and no one could possibly guess you were helpless and mute." A pathetic, almost inaudible whimper came from Kathy, and her hands gesticulated in frantic anger. She opened her mouth and tried to force out the white foam mouthpiece, but her tongue wasn't strong enough and finally her jaw muscles tired of the effort and she closed her mouth. She sat looking at Emmy Lou, and her eyes were large and round, with a hint of a tear on the lower lids.

"But I haven't finished with you yet, you white bitch!" Emmy Lou gazed angrily at the helpless white girl, and a vicious tone crept into her voice. Deep resentment, long pent up inside her, welled to the surface. "We're going to show you what it's like to be black … a helpless black slave, just like you said earlier. Then you'll know how I feel when you don't really accept me, when you never invite me into your life beyond token acceptance at the office. Then let's see how you feel. Up on your feet, white bitch, and over to my dressing table, and you'll find out all about it."

She helped Kathy get up and walked her into the bedroom, then sat her down at the dressing table in front of the mirror. She opened a drawer and pulled out a beautiful black head made of rubber. It was exquisite, with big brown plastic eyes, thick and fluffy eyelashes, a shocking pink mouth that oozed sensuality. The white girl looked at the head with terror in her eyes, realizing what was going to happen to her. She wriggled and squirmed in her chair, and gazed pleadingly at Emmy Lou, her eyes full of emotion. Her mute, foam-filled mouth emitted a series of little squeaks that were almost inaudible and completely unintelligible.

"Goodbye, White Girl"

Emmy Lou came around behind Kathy, a big smile on her face, with the head held out for the helpless girl to see it. "Goodbye, white girl," she whispered in Kathy's ear. "In just a few minutes you'll be a beautiful black girl, and you'll be in my charge. Take a last look at what you used to be, because in an instant it'll just be a memory." Carefully she drew the black head over the features of the helpless white girl. In the back, where there was an opening slit to allow the head to be put on, there were eyelet holes and a long black lace. A final whimper escaped Kathy's useless lips, and Emmy Lou bent down as if to listen. "Can't understand a word of it," she smiled.

Carefully, Emmy Lou started to lace the head onto Kathy, from top to bottom, going back over it twice, three times, tightening it very carefully until it sealed Kathy's features into firm inescapable blackness. Then she brought out a huge Afro wig and pulled it over the bald dome of the black head. Where there had been a white girl was now a black one, with big, staring brown eyes, a pouting pink mouth and a big, wild Afro. Emmy Lou adjusted the turtleneck of the sweater, where it covered the long neck of the black rubber head. "There you are, beautiful black girl. How do you like your new face?"

Emmy Lou looked carefully at the helpless black creature sitting before her. She had to do the job perfectly! "Don't you think those hands look ridiculous?" she asked. "Well, I do, and if you're going to date a big, beautiful man later this evening, you've got to be all black." Emmy Lou opened a drawer in her dressing table, and brought out a pair of black rubber gloves. She rubbed talcum power over Kathy's pale white hands, and pulled the gloves on, taping the top edge around the arm so that they would remain skintight. Then she took out a set of false fingernails and glued them in place, completing Kathy's hands. She rolled down the sleeves of the sweater, and she was finished.

Emmy Lou sat beside her helpless black friend, and put her arm around her affectionately. "Black sister," she said, "you're beautiful, sexy, sensational. When I put dark glasses over those staring brown eyes of yours, you could go anywhere in public, and no one would guess what was inside there. But first, I've got to do to me what I did to you, only the other way around. I've always wanted to know what it would be like to be a white girl, so I'm going to be one for the evening. I'm going to be Kathy, and you're going to be Emmy Lou. Just you watch, black girl, and you'll see."

Black is White!

Emmy Lou opened the drawer again, and this time she brought out a white head that was as strikingly beautiful as the black one. "That's the new Kathy," she confided, speaking softly into the ear of the silent black girl sitting beside her. "in a moment, that'll be me!" Carefully she drew the head back in place over her own face and head, laced the opening at the back closed, working the laces tight, tighter, finally finishing the job with a secure knot down at the shoulders. She readjusted the top of her dress, and pulled on her wig, a flowing, blonde creation that framed the startling doll-like face like a pale gold cloud. The newly created white girl looked with what seemed like surprise at the black hands, which must have seemed incongruous. She sensed this, and brought out a pair of long white gloves which she put on, then pulled her sleeves down over them.

The newly created black girl and white girl sat for an instant, side by side. Then, the white girl who had been black stood up. She reached down onto the dressing table, and took up a bold red lipstick, putting it up to the mirror to write. "You're never getting out of there," she wrote with firm, intense letters. Then she put down the lipstick, put her hands on her hips and looked down at the helpless creature she had made. The black girl sat, rubber features and plastic eyes staring up at the mirror, and then the head shook from side to side, then shook once more. The useless black hands with their long, clawlike nails gestured in futility, as the real girl under the black rubber features considered her helpless fate.

The End