"There, there, my little murmuration."

I was deep in the woods, petting Winnie in my lap. She was down to about the size of a Bernese Mountain dog, but her hair continued to retract. Where was it all going? Maybe into that ring of barnacles where all her arms came together? It was an odd sort of space. I hadn't looked at it clearly before, but if I brushed the hair aside...

"DON'T LOOK AT IT!" It was @Minx Katrell, standing at the edge of the clearing. Frankly she was looking a little disheveled.

"Well, not without these." She tossed me the Hex Protection Goggles. I put them on.

"I guess little Winnie needs to go back to her Hexen biome," I said, stroking her arms lovingly.

"That's right," said Minx. "And there's a little more you'll need to do too."

All this hair pulling just seemed to be aggravating little Winnie.

Ok not-so-little Winnie anymore. How did she get so big? Had she found some giant vat of magic hair growth elixir? Or was it just that, no longer constrained by the Hexen Zone, she was becoming her true, whole, if fearsome self?

I made my way through the smoke and wreckage of the Psychic Fair Grounds and headed into the massive locks of hair, squirming out of the woods like a mighty kraken.

"Here little Winnie! C'mon girl! Daddy's comin home!"

"That's right! Pull!!!!"

I was directing the tractors at the Future Psychic Farmers Jamboree Tractor Pull event. Instead of the giant iron cakes those tractors usually pull, I had them pulling hair.

"Pulllllllll!!!!!!!!"

Giant swaths of golden brown hair, braided together like massive ship's ropes. The tractors were pulling them from the woods, spinning thousands of individual strands into mighty braids with their elaborate hitches.

The tractors were belching fire and diesel smoke, their oversized rear tires spinning in the dirt.

"Pullllllllllllllll!!!!"

From my seat in the announcer's booth I saw the spindrels grow. Narrow at the point where they connected to each tractor, then wider and wider as they got to the forest. They looked almost like giant starfish arms, radiating from a central body hidden in the woods.

I was just able to say into the mic ""Uh, tractor drivers?" when then arms became alive, swinging high into the air above the arena, lifting the tractors up and slamming them down into ground, again and again. Then they swung into the bleachers with what was left.

It was a good thing the Tractor Pull was not a particularly well-attended event.

There were a lot of hairs to follow at Psyhigh. Long blond hairs, long brown hairs, short black hairs, all along the walkways and the gardens and the commons outside the cafeteria. All you had to to was start pulling and you'd find more and more.

Soon I was grabbing up great handfuls of hair. It led me right to the Psyhigh Equine and Livestock Facility on the far end of campus, next to the woods. And the Future Psychic Farmers Jamboree was in full swing.

Cotton candy, corn on a stick, invisible dogs on leashes. Pie baking contest, pie eating contest, a contest for breeding the biggest rabbit, the goat spelling bee. The rodeo was in the evenings, but in the arena today...

"It's time for the Tractor Pull, everybody! 10 minutes in Leadbeater Arena"

A tractor pull, eh?

"Awww... you're such a cutie!"

The Winward Spinnerette was in my lap. Making a kind of buzzy rattle. Purring?

"You like that, don't you? Yes...."

I was combing it out with a paddle brush. It seemed to be mostly made of hair.

"And such long arms. Soooooo beautiful."

Like a starfish made out of hair. Five long arms, all coming together in the center. Some kind of barnacle structure at the center, maybe for its eyes. Didn't seem to be a mouth on the underside.

"What? You want to get up? Ok, but only in the room. You can't go outside, ok?"

The Winward Spinnerette slinked out of my lap and onto floor. It shimmied across the carpet, up a chair leg, and onto the table. Grabbing at things like an octopus.

"Well you're quite a climber, aren't you? I should give you a name. Winnie? Too on the nose?"

Winnie was sliding across the table, fluidly, around my laptop. Knocked over an empty cup.

"Hey, you be careful, little buddy!"

And pulled itself up to the open window, and slipped out.

It was a very deep, dark hole. And a lot roomier than it looked from the outside.

"Spzzzzzz.... spzzzzzz....."

There was light still coming in through the hole behind me. It looked a long way off but lit things up just enough. Things were cob webby.

"Spzzzzzz... spzzzzzz...."

What was that noise?

"Put your finger in it."

"Who said that?"

Dang intrusive thoughts. I hate that guy.

I walked farther down the hole.

"Spzzzzz.... spzzzzz...."

Ah, there it was. A Winward Spinnerette. Snoring.

I prepared myself both mentally and physically as I approached the hex in question, practicing the 9-layer pousse-café breathing technique while subconsciously reciting the Gramaphonium at 16 rpms. I summoned my Magic Eraser in my right hand, and the called the Bronze Wool Fleece into my left.

"Ok, now, feel your way down the side of the towel dispenser. Good, now put your fingers on the wall right next to it."

"Like this?" I asked.

"Yes. It's right in that area, I think."

"You are wise not to look at it, my friend. Only someone with advanced Hexa-flexa protective goggles, like the very ones I am wearing, should ever look directly at a hex," I assured him. "Now, let's take a look at what we've got."

Well, that was odd. It was more like a hole in a wall.

"Did you know you've got a hole here?" I asked.

WHOOOOOSH! VOOOOOOMP!

You see, I'm the president of HEX CLUB!

"I dunno, kid. It's pretty stubborn. Janitor is still sobbing out back."

"Well the first thing, sir, is that your janitor undoubtedly looked directly at the hex."

"Sure he did. How else do ya think he'd go at it?"

"Wearing THESE!" and I whipped on my Hexa-flexa protective goggles.

"Now," I said, "if you'll please escort me to the bathroom. Down that long hall. Take me by the hand... I can't see a thing in these..."

I brought a sack of gummix and a bottle of shoulder oil to the clerk.

Beep! Beep!

"That'll be fourteen ninety-seven."

I knew I couldn't aura up all that. Not that much in the bank.

"How about for just the sack?"

"AIEEEEEEEEEE!" came a scream from the back room.

"What was that?" I asked.

"Somebody drew a hex on the bathroom wall. They're having trouble removing it."

"Removing it, you say? I might be of some assistance."