Hell Toupee

(pre-titled by John)

It was more of a burning sensation than an itching one, and I couldn't remember where I bought the hairpiece. I looked it over for a tag, but only succeeded in scratching off the scabs and pulling out some hairs in the process. I thought to myself now, perhaps the reason I can't remember where it came from is that it was something to do with that headache I woke up in my car with. That and the blood on my passenger seat Come to think of it, the hairdo looked a lot like his deceased friend Barney, but -

That was odd. Somehow I had started thinking of myself abstractly, in the third person. Note to self, I am me. You're you. Really you are you ... but then why can't I think of myself in the second person? ... Because ... because I am the second person - the other me - and I look totally hot with this doo!

He was happy with his new hair, and his new car, wherever he had gotten them from. Manically happy. He wanted to go out again to celebrate ... I shook my head sharply, steeling myself against the headache, I mean I want to go out.

But I didn't. He didn't know what he thought anymore. He decided a trip to the mall would help him relax, but I forgot where I put my car keys. It's okay, I found myself thinking, we can work this out.

"Hey, man, what's wrong?" My roommate Ryan's voice startled me. "You've been standing in the kitchen muttering to yourself for like ten minutes. It's creeping me out."

"Wha..?" I managed, before flipping my new bangs at him. It was now more of an itching sensation, and I longed to scratch-scratch and scratch to get some relief.

Why am I wearing my roommate's sideburns? he asked himself as he piled more dirt into the hole in the ground, having no idea how he'd ended up out there in the woods, in the dark, with an empty giant-sized duffel bag lying nearby. But he liked them even though they itched a little. He took off one of his new gloves and scratched long and hard. A chunk of bone fell from them. "I should probably put that in the hole, too," I said. He agreed, and kindly picked it up for me. I thanked him, and we both smiled. It was like looking into a mirror, without the mirror.

One buried the bone like the dog that he was, while the other him watched himself do it, and admired his own prowess gloatingly.

We're done, they echoed together, and left the woods to admire their coiffure, petting it, so sleek and greasy now.

The drive back into the city was a kaleidoscopic affair. He jabbered at me non-stop. I was radiant, even though my vision seemed to blur occasionally with colored lights. Those lights were replaced by neon. It was a night club in full swing. I pulled up to the curb and grabbed my shovel. "Let's make our debut," he said. I stepped out.