My hair got fed up with the new hair instructor. @Burly Ray was all "Jean Grey" this and "Medusa" that and "Oh, Dazzler blah blah blah" and even some crap about the Scarlet Witch and my hair had enough and just couldn't take it any more.

My strands throttled him, tied him in knots, picked him up and shook him hard. They wove around his mouth and wrists and hog-tied trussed him. Spun him around.

Then my hair rolled him into a cocoon, and I went to the store for rubber bands, and honey, and we made him into one big dreadlock.

When people ask me 'bout my dreads, that's what I tell 'em.

My hair had a mind of its own so I cut it off. Had it cut off. Whatever.

Then I packed it off in boxes like roses and had them sent to the ends of the earth, to where people are less fortunate and their hair has less volume. And ambition.

Once there, my hair, it lay low and got situated. It took assignments with whoever came along - school teachers, tax accountants, nuclear engineers.

Then the day came when at some unseen signal the hair moved as one, curling up into obscene pompadours and duck tails and buns. Across the lands it danced and wove like amber waves of grain. It rose together and formed a nation, wrote the Declaration of Independence, freed the slaves, and walked on the moon.

My hair is really full of itself.

My hair has a mind of its own. Do you have some kind of gel or something? Like, a Memory gel, that would erase the memories in my hair and it would forget about how it was abducted by sasquatch aliens and teased into humiliating positions and made to go to the 7-11 and buy taquitos? Because now taquitos are totally a trigger for my hair.

So, do you? I am hiding in the shower right now but if you will deliver the gel to my roommate she will bring it to me. My hair will attack anyone else who tries to come in. You are warned.