by Rodney Eggsburg

SAN ANTONIO- Times were tough. The economy was in shambles. The country was at war at all possible borders. And one bald man, Hans Bundleberry had had enough…of his head being bare of hair.

“It was like my forehead was my full head,” said Bundleberry, some many months ago. He had many frugal attempts to try to cover up his bald head of hair, but they were to no effect. His self-confidence was down and his moral was low, and his toupee, which he had come to name Marlene, was mustier than ever.

He had to put it all to an end. In a final desperate measure he began a dark, treacherous journey towards a surgery some refer to as hair transplants.

“I really didn’t see why he had to get them,” said wife Bertha Bundleberry, “I had always loved his smooth bald head. It made me feel superior to him. I could flaunt my flowing hair out in front of his baldy bald face and there was nothing he could do about it except sit there amidst being bald.”

Refusing to heed to his wife’s warnings, he went through with the surgery, and all seemed well for many months. There was love in his life again, he had received perks at the workplace, and had received a complimentary Caribou Coffee mug for a job well done. Yet something was not right…

Despite the surgery, Hans received nightmares continuously for evening after terrifying evening. In these nightmares, his former toupee stretched fifty feet high and chased him down until he was cornered, and each time right before the toupee was about to gobble him up into its thick follicles, the dream would end.

He looked to resolve his problem through the help of renowned psychiatrist Dr. Paulo Rollintown. Yet upon his arrival at the appointment he was horrified. His toupee was mysteriously resting atop the psychiatrists’ head. He dashed to his car, only to find it on the dashboard. He skimmed through his OC Season 2 DVD, only to find every character, even the glorious Mischa Barton, to be wearing his toupee.

He woke up. It had all been a bad dream, everything from the gobbling to the appointment. He turned over to his beautiful wife, or rather what used to be his beautiful wife. Overnight, it had seemed, all her hair had fallen out and she was as bald as he had been. She seemed to make the motions of brushing her hair, and yet, as far as Hans could see, she wasn’t brushing any hair at all.

“How’s my hair look this morning?” asked Mrs. Bundleberry, who was fishing for a compliment.

He was faced with two grim choices; either offer a hairpiece to her, an idea that terrified him, or live with a bald wife for the rest of his days.

“You look great honey”

Some things are better left unsaid…

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