HAIR!

(Nope, Not The Musical)

1. The Talking Head

The night is hot and he's lonely. So lonely. The room is quiet and stuffy. He takes off all his clothes and turns on the AC. He lies down in his bed with a hand on his belly. There's a fire burning deep down within. He spreads his legs slightly apart. He closes his eyes. He listens to his heartbeat and breathing. He's tall, dark, movie star handsome, and single. He can feel the cool air on his naked hairy chest. And tonight, he's lonely. His hand moves downward slowly. He grows harder as he thinks of Stephanie. Her smile. Her eyes. Her lips. Her legs. Her breasts...He gives in to his thirst, lust, and desire. He's all alone inside his 2-story house. It's been 2 months now. No one will hear him moan. He grasps hold of his throbbing self and starts to—

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, Joseph!" His right hand says in disgust, its squeaky voice a little muffled. "Why me? Why always me? Why the fuck do you have to do this to me? Why can't you be fucking left-handed for once, Joseph? Why?"

"Hey!" His left hand, in its deep growling voice, protests lividly. "Leave me out of this!"

"Look at me! Just fucking look at me!" His right hand screeches angrily. "Do you know how I fucking feel? Do you want to spend every fucking night of the rest of your fucking life like this?"

"Oh, suck it up, Cupcake." His left hand rolls its eyes and snorts. "Life is hard, get a helmet."

"COME OVER HERE AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE, YOU INCONSIDERATE BASTARD!" His right hand erupts in fury. Its hold of his manly organ tightens, spending a spur of heart-rending pain through his rigid naked body, making his eyes roll back into his head. "COME OVER HERE AND HAVE A TASTE OF THAT SOGGY WETNESS! COME OVER HERE AND FEEL THAT STICKY GOOEYNESS! COME OVER HERE AND—"

Joe Morelli passes out and faints in blissful darkness. His hands keep on fighting, through the night, oblivious to the whole universe, till dawn comes. The early morning sun shines through the window upon the naked police detective. His chest hair dances in the cool air like a sea of wheat. His lovely cozy 2-story house is quiet and not very neat. His t-shirt smells like ketchup. His shoes and socks smell like Limburger cheese. His eyelashes are long, his nose straight, his body lean and hairy. He indeed is nice-looking.

His worst nightmare has just begun.