Strange Days... Vivid Dreams & The Events Surrounding A Blonde Jailbait...

Last week, I woke up one morning feeling slightly confused. The night before had been a series of intense beer drinking, but compared to the amount I drank, I felt pretty good. As any morning, I lay in my bed thinking for a few minutes, strange memories of vivid dreams began to resurface. Watching the planet destroy itself in nuclear wars while flying through outer space with cartoon characters, stuff like that. Finally I mustered the energy to stand up...

Like any morning, my first instinct is to look in the mirror and evaluate the damage I had done to myself. My hair, like every morning was in Dr. Frankenstein mode, as if I had been severly electrified all night. But something seemed different this time, I couldn't see exactly what it was but something was definately a little bit different. I raised my right hand and combed my hair using my fingers...

I looked at my right hand and in horror I saw that in my hand lay hair, my own hair. Could it be? Had the time come? Is this the beginning of the end? Jesus Bilbo Baggins Christ! It couldn't come on a worse time. The night before had been such a great time, the peak of it was when I met what seemed to be a good looking blonde. It was late, it was dark and loud, so any type of formal communication was difficult...

It was only a few minutes, I tried to speak in German but she was very understanding towards my "auslandisch" personality. It was a nice talk, but she had to go home, she had work early in the morning. How can I argue with that? Especially in this "Wirtschaftkriese" or whatever it's called. But it wasn't over, the impossible happened, she asked for my phone number. The first time in my twenty-two years of living that a girl actually asks for my phone number...

But I had reservations about it, mostly because this girl looked young, like me going to prison young. However, she couldn't get into this place without the minimal age of eighteen. It is common though, for younger people to sneak in so I couldn't be sure. How can I say no to her? I gave her my phone number and she mentioned that she would call me the next day. Sweet, I thought. All I can do is wait for her call and pray she's over fifteen...

Why would an attractive young girl want my phone number? She has to got be as crazy as I am, or she's too young and stupid to notice my psychotic tendencies. But how the hell can I meet her with my hair falling off? That's unacceptable. There's no chance I can meet this girl while the front top of my hair is falling out in all directions. I must be able to fix this, I thought. There must be some way I can make this work...

Yes, there is. The answer was obvious. My friend here in Stuttgart owns a realistic hair piece. I have to shave my hair off, get the hair piece and hope the girl doesn't notice the difference. It was dark, and only a few minutes, surely she wont notice. But how can I keep up this act? How long till she finds out that I'm in fact a balding freak? The only reasonable answer to this, was to charm her. Yes, use those Sindri charms on her and make the bitch attached to you. After that, I can remove the hair piece and she will unable to turn her back on me...

A solid plan. A bit unconventional, but fuck it. This was my last chance, who wants a bald freak? But after a closer inspection of the hair in my right hand I realized, this is not my hair. The relief I felt was incredible, but it raised questions. If this wasn't my hair, who's was it and how the fuck did it get it in my hair? There seemed to be no obvious answer to these questions...

No worries, I had my hair and a possible date that day. But the call never came, the jailbait chickened out on me. Either that or she simply doesn't remember talking to me. I didn't have her number, so I couldn't reach her, what a bummer. So there I was, still standing in front of the mirror, holding someone else's hair and thanking the Gods that I still have a reasonably strong hairline. What can be better for a man my age?