And now, a perhaps ten-second message from Kris’ brain . . .
Stupid children, always leaving all their shit in the car and then they leave me to deal with it. OK, yes . . . these are my flyers from that art festival and these are my credit cards and this is my receipt for gas and this coffee cup is mine . . . hmmm . . . all these papers shoved down here are mine and so is this sweater and so is this raincoat and so is this library card . . . damn it . . . these maps are mine and so is this coupon book and this magazine and this candy wrapper . . . I am not the only one who uses this car . . . how is it possible all of the mess in this car is mine? That doesn’t even make sense. Look at this huge pile of all my stuff . . . it’s too much to even carry in one trip. And what’s down here in the door pocket . . . a scarf and a book and some coupons . . . mine, mine, and mine.
OK, well I can just loop the scarf around my neck. I wondered where that scarf had gone. Nice to see you again, fuzzy gray guy!
Pfffffttttt. Let me just blow that away . . . stupid hair falling down in my face.
Pfffffttttt. Wait, my hair’s in a ponytail. Stupid scarf brushing up weirdly against my cheek and into my mouth.
Pffffftttt. Stupid scarf. Weird, though . . . it doesn’t feel like scarf.
Wait . . . peripheral vision alert . . . huge curved arms reaching across my face . . . AUGH!
SPIDER SPIDER SPIDER SPIDER SPIDER . . . huge furry tarantula spider that was somehow hiding in the car and nesting in my scarf and is now hugging my face and AUGH AUGH AUGH AUGH . . . get off of me get off of me get off of me . . . wait . . . not spider.
RAT TAIL! AIIAIIEEEEEEEE! RAT RAT RAT RAT RAT! A HUGE TUMORED RAT SITTING ON MY SHOULDER AND CURLING A FLIRTY CANCEROUS RAT TAIL ALONG MY CHEEK . . . get off of me get off of me get off of me . . . wait . . . not rat tail.
HOW AM I HOLDING A BIG CHUNK OF HAIR?
IS IT MY HAIR WHY IS IT NOT ATTACHED TO MY HEAD IF IT IS MY HAIR IS THIS HOW CANCER STARTS I THOUGHT YOU LOST YOUR HAIR BECAUSE OF CHEMOTHERAPY AND THIS ISN’T A THINNING THIS IS A CHUNK AND THIS HAD BETTER NOT BE A MENOPAUSE THING BECAUSE I WILL KICK SOME MOTHERFUCKING ASS IF MENOPAUSE MEANS MY HAIR FALLS OUT IN BIG FISTFULS AND SERIOUSLY IS THIS MY HAIR HOLD ON LET ME CHECK FOR BALD SPOTS ON MY HEAD OH PLEASE DON’T LET ME BE PATCHY-HEADED THAT IS SO NOT A CUTE LOOK . . .
whew . . .
Also, this hair is lighter than mine, so that’s a good thing.
OK, BUT WHOSE HAIR AM I HOLDING?
AUGH! WHAT IF THERE IS A DEAD PERSON SOMEHOW IN THE CEILING AND ROOF OF THIS VAN AND WHEN I LOOK UP THERE IS A DEAD PERSON STARING DEADLY DOWN AT ME AND HAIR IS FALLING OUT IN CHUNKS FROM A DEAD PERSON’S HEAD ONTO MY HEAD AND IF THIS WAS A HORROR MOVIE THERE WOULD SO BE A DEAD PERSON SECRETED SOMEHOW IN THE UPPER WORKINGS OF THE MINIVAN AND I WOULD BE SITTING HERE LIKE AN IDIOT WITH A CHUNK OF CORPSE HAIR IN MY HAND TRYING TO PUZZLE THAT SHIT OUT AND THEN THE SERIAL KILLER WOULD JUST MOSEY ON UP ALONGSIDE THE VAN ALL SHARP-WEAPONED AND THEN THERE I WOULD BE . . . STUFFED INTO VAN CAVITIES . . . OK COUNT OF THREE LOOK UP AND SEE THE DEAD PERSON OH PLEASE DON’T LET THERE BE MAGGOTS . . . 1. . . 2 . . . 3 . . .
whew . . .
Wait, this chunk of hair has been cut off . . . not ripped out . . . hmmm . . .
OH WELL THAT’S JUST GREAT . . . MARK HAS BEEN DRIVING AROUND IN THE MINIVAN STALKING LONG-HAIRED WOMEN AND CUTTING THEIR HAIR OFF AND YEAH THAT’S COMPLETELY NORMAL BABE AND NOW I HAVE BEEN SUCKED INTO YOUR WEB OF MADNESS AND PSYCHOSIS YOU HAIR-SNIPPING SOUVENIR-TAKING FREAK IS THERE MORE HAIR HIDDEN IN THIS VAN WHAT THE FUCK I AM SO TELLING ON YOU WHEN THEY COME TO ASK ME IF I NOTICED ANYTHING UNUSUAL . . . WHY YES THERE WERE ALL THESE HUNKS OF HAIR EVERYWHERE AND HOW WAS I TO KNOW THERE WAS ANYTHING ODD ABOUT THAT PEOPLE FIND HUNKS OF HAIR ALL THE TIME EXCEPT NO THEY DO NOT NO THEY DO NOT NO THEY DO NOT FUCKING LOON OF A HUSBAND THINK YOU KNOW SOMEONE AND THEN LOOK AT WHAT THE FUCK YOU DO NOT KNOW AND YOU JUST WAIT TO SEE WHAT I HAVE TO SAY NEXT TIME YOU TRY TO PULL MY HAIR DURING SEX BECAUSE NOT EVEN BABE NOT FUCKING EVEN . . . let me just look to see if there are other chunks of hair to go with this chunk . . . IF THERE IS A SERIAL-KILLER COLLECTION OF HAIR IN THIS CAR, I HAD BETTER NOT TOUCH ANY SCALP THAT’S ALL I KNOW STUPID SCALPING MURDERING HUSBAND USE YOUR OWN FUCKING CAR NEXT TIME YOU FREAK . . . I AM SO DRAWING THE LINE AT TOUCHING SCALP I AM DRAWING A MOTHERFUCKING LINE SADISTIC KILLER HUSBAND OF MINE.
whew . . . no more hair . . .
Wait, you know what?
The girls both got haircuts a few weeks ago. Hmm . . . it’s about the right color for either of them. You suppose one of them saved a big chunk of hair after her haircut and then tucked it into the door with my scarf? Or maybe one of them accidentally carried it back with her from the salon in the hood of a jacket or something?
That doesn’t seem too likely, but you never know.
NO, I AM NOT OVERLY DRAMATIC.
NO, I DID NOT OVERREACT.
NO, I DO NOT THINK SCREAMING AND FLAILING WAS AN UNREASONABLE RESPONSE.
Yes, I see the girls staring at me incredulously through the dining room window.
I SAID I SEE THEM.
Yes, they are laughing hysterically.
I SEE THEM.