Thursday, December 09, 2004

The Hair

The Hair

Arriving to my dull job this morning I found something so disgusting and retched lying at the bottom of my keyboard. Curiosity rolled through my mind like a combine in a wheat field somewhere in Kansas. I dare not touch this vile thing for fear where it originated. I closed my eyes in hope it was just a dream manufactured by beings in the afterlife. No luck. It’s still there mocking me.

Looking closer I see the black shade of color as it coils around like a small Slinky. My fingers didn’t touch the thing but I could tell the texture was course and hard. I have but one question-where did it come from?

The possibility of that thing originating from my body is moot. My forest lost a fight with a hungry razor. Was it from my significant other carried over from the all night trist by the graveyard? Not possible. Smooth as satin.

I can only conclude that the small black Slinky came from somewhere unknown to me. But who? Why? How? Did the late night cleaning crew use my terminal to surf scantly clad ladies? Was it indeed women that were the object of infatuation? I shuddered at the possibilities. Women don’t normally surf for that vision. By the gross disfigurement of cleaning lady’s beauty maybe it’s the only love she can find. I still shudder.

My only recourse is to take in a deep breath of the stale office air and blow like the winds of Alaska. Hopefully the hair will land in a place where eyesight fails to fall. What if it lands close to me? Worse, on me? No time. I must rid my workspace of this evil creature.

Turning to the side I heave and blow. It is gone. Grabbing the can of Lysol I douse my desk and equipment with sprays of fresh air disinfectant.

My mind still wonders who owned the hair. Maybe I’ll set up a trap or recording device to find the culprit. Until then I can only wonder and ingest great quantities of Tums.


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