Bad Hair Day By Konner Elmore
“That’s it. It finally happened,” David thinks. “I’m fucking going bald.” He stares into his bathroom mirror, his face contorted in horror as if he’s just experienced war. “It’s okay, it’s okay–don’t freak out. I’ll just wear a hat or something. Yeah, I’ll just do that and become one of those hat-wearing geriatrics at the club bathroom doing coke off the koala changing station.” He exits his bathroom and sits on his bed. His spotted head rests in his hands. “Wait, I’ll just go visit the barber guy a few blocks over. Surely he has some kind of hair treatment shit I can use.” He rushes out the door as quick as a flash, his newly slick head perhaps aiding with the added speed. He arrives at the barbershop and looks through the plain glass window to see an old man arranging wig displays, a big grin smeared across his face. He walks in and begs, “Please sir, I need whatever you got that helps hair growth. If you don’t help me, my very short-lived life as a bachelor will have been worthless!” The old man looks at him, his smile never faltering. “I’ve got just the thing, young man. Simply lather this on your scalp and by tomorrow, you’ll be needing a haircut!” He hands the concoction to David, who snatches it greedily. He quickly throws a few bucks at the old man and retreats out the door. If he weren’t in such a hurry, he might have noticed the hair stuck in the teeth of the old man’s grin. As he walks home, he covers his scalp as instructed. He sleeps that night wondering if he’s just been ripped off. When he awakes the next morning, he quickly runs to the bathroom and gazes at his experiment. Sure enough, the hair on his head is grown anew, perhaps even longer than it was before. David jumps with joy, running his hands through his new hair to an obscene amount. As he does this, his hands begin to tingle. He pauses his celebration to inspect them and notices his once naked palms are now covered in thick, beautiful hair. He falls back, breathing heavily as the hair spreads up his arms at an alarming rate. He tries to scream but finds he cannot. He is choked by the hair that consumes his throat. He falls down on his bathroom floor, unable to breathe. He reaches a depressing conclusion as he realizes his last sight on earth will be his toilet. He needn’t worry. The hair quickly sprouts out his eyes, so that he can see nothing at all. An old man smiles to himself as he arranges his newest wig at his window. He brushes it attentively, his phosphorescent white teeth shining with the sunlight. As he brushes, the hair seems to stiffen up at the scalp. It’s strange. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear it was flinching.
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