Warning: The following content is not suitable for children below the age of 15.
My name is not very important.
People call me eathair.
I eat hair.
Ha ha, I was just kidding, who eats hair! That’s just crazy! You’ll believe just about anything I say, wont you?
Well, then believe this, I eat hair and it tastes good.
I’m sitting in a train. I catch the same train every day; it takes me to my school.
I don’t study that well. I don’t seem to be able to concentrate when people are making fun of me.
I look around and see all kinds of hair. Thick, thin, soft, silky, red, yellow, brown, black…green. Green is the best.
As you might have guessed, I don’t have a lot of friends… I’m a freak, a loser. My only friend is the barber. But I think he speaks to me just because I pay him. A dollar for each ounce, the inflation be damned.
I swing by his shop every evening at 7. He’s an expert on hair; he’s probably the one person who knows more than me. I made him try some once; I don’t think he enjoyed it much.
By definition, I’m a very clean boy. I don’t drink or smoke. Never had sex either, though I can’t really take full credit for that. I don’t do weed or cocaine, I just do hair.
Today is going to be the greatest day of my life; it’s also going to be my last.
Yes, I’m going to die today. And a lot of people are gonna die with me.
It’s payback time.
I hate my country. It’s far too easy for a fifteen year old to lay his hands on a gun. If I wasn’t gonna die today, I probably would have engaged myself in politics and done something about it.
Yes, monkey brain, I have a gun.
Claire Peterson just got on. Man, she’s hot. I’ve always wanted her; I don’t think she feels quite the same way about me.
I asked her out last year, she just kept laughing. She said she couldn’t; she was planning to grow her hair for the prom. The bitch.
She stopped in front of me and opened her pony tail, waiving her lustrous blond hair in slow motion, as if enticing me to strike. What did she think I was? A fuckin hair eating vampire? “Twilight” is ruining way too many lives. If I wasn’t going to die today, I would have written my own misogynist series, “Moonlight” in which hair eating werewolves hump the shit out of those gay vampires.
She then air blew a kiss towards me. I turned around and patted my behind, showing her exactly where her kiss could land. She scowled and took a seat at the opposite end of the compartment.
Eat hair 1-0 Rest of the Fucking World
Just then Raichu the tiny foreign exchange student got on. Man, I love these Asian kids; they all have names like Pokémon characters.
I made a mental note not to kill Asians.
Bill Mathews and his gang of goons got on at the next station. They started off with their “Eathair and the Gay Pope in a bar…” jokes.
“One time, eathair and the Gay Pope went to the bar….
The pope turns to eat hair and says,” Hey! Did you know I’m gay?”
And then eathair gives him this look and says, “Beat it … you’re bald.” “
They laughed violently; it was comedy central for their morbid world.
I gave him my trademark “You are so gonna get killed in a high school gun shoot out today” smile.
His amoebic brain seemed to have comprehended that, they slowly moved away from me and made their way towards Raichu. I felt sorry for the little fella, what’s the point of being Japanese when you’re not a ninja anyway?
Karma Police was playing on my iPod. Radiohead is just the shit for crazy psychotic killers.
Karma police, arrest this man
He talks in maths
He buzzes like a fridge
He’s like a detuned radio
Karma police, arrest this girl
Her Hitler hairdo is
Making me feel ill
And we have crashed her party
This is what you get
This is what you get
This is what you get when you mess with us
I got off at the next station. School was just a couple of blocks away.
On my way to school, I imagined what it would be like to shoot all those people. Thanks to Grand Theft Auto and Counter Strike, I’m now convinced I can do whatever I want to…. kill, steal, extort, torture…
God bless explicitly violent computer games, what would psychotic depression prone teenage killers like me do without them?
If I wasn’t going to die today, I probably would have made my own contribution to the world of insanely gory action games.
I even thought of a name for my game: “All Gore: The Inconvenient Brute”. Smirk.
I think I should assign points for different parts of the human body. For example, a head shot would fetch me 10 points while a shot to the torso would only get me 6 points.
Hmmm… I better keep a notepad with me.
I entered the school grounds; I smiled at the security guard on my way in.
I was in the hallway, I was surrounded by kids.
I took a deep breath, and reached for the gun in my back pack.
I stopped; all the kids started running helter skelter before I could even pull the gun out.
I was impressed with their foresight. Guess all those mentoring classes post Virginia Tech were finally paying off.
I proceeded to retrieve the gun.
I stopped again,
Shots fired and it wasn’t me.
An Indian kid appeared at the entrance of the hallway, a gun in his hand.
Fuck! Did he have to pick the same day! Damn the minorities and their insecurities!
He started shooting indiscriminately, I turned around and ran.
The kid in front of me got shot and fell down. I tripped on him and went crashing to the floor.
In a flash the Indian kid was in front of us.
He pointed the gun to my head, smiling sadistically and said, “A hundred points for a head shot. “
I smiled weakly and said, “Make it ten points, It’s easier to count.”
The smile vanished from his face, “Fuck you man! Aren’t you afraid!”
“Not really, here take my notepad; it will help you keep score.” I replied with a smile and held up my notepad.
“What’s wrong with you? You’re a freak!” he screamed.
“We both are.” I said.
“Wait, aren’t you that kid who eats hair?” he asked, apparently a bit less intent on killing me.
“My reputation precedes me. “ I said, proud of myself.
“Damn man….I’m a big fan of yours, most of the people in my community are.” He said, a look of respect on his face.
“Wait. What?” I said, startled. Was he now going to tell me that I’m actually a boy wizard and baby me managed to kill an evil lord who was also part snake?
“No shit man…. the kind of crap you take… makes us minorities feel like royalty.” He said, unwavering respect on his chocolate brown face.
So much for my pride.
“Err…ok … by the way… I too came to school today to kill people.” I told him.
“Dude… you should have told me…Together, we could have killed and injured a lot more people.” he pointed out.
“Well …. I didn’t know you wanted to do this shit too. “I explained.
“Man… we’re always ready for this kinda shit…. all just need is a small shove on the back or some encouragingly racist words.” He explained.
“Ummm … I’ll keep that in mind next time. By the way, if your community likes me so much, why is that none of you ever tried to talk to me?” I asked.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Did you ever notice how much hair we have on our bodies? “He said.
I had to admit that I did notice; they were rather hairy, however his statements only bring to light another common misconception about me and just to clear things out, I DO NOT eat body hair. It just grouses me out.
“But yeah … we could have been friends……” he continued.
I took the cue, “Yeah … we could have done some cool shit together…other than killing and mutilating that is…”
“Yeah… I could have been your loyal sidekick… though I don’t really eat hair, I’ll trap people and steal their hair for you … we can develop our own weapons and special moves… hang out at the beach….create our own group of closely knit friends….take walks on the beach …. jog together in the park… just like brothers…” he remarked.
I wanted to say”Dude…that’s just weird…”
“Yeah .. sounds cool…” I replied.
He took my notepad and said,” I’m sorry eathair…. I love you…but I have to kill you…”
A tear ran down his cheek.
“Err…ok…” I replied. This kid had serious issues.
I looked at the kid who was lying next to me, the shot kid; he almost had a sympathetic look on his face.
“Dude … Do you have a pen on you? I need it to note down the points…. “the Indian kid asked.
“Sure thing.” I replied and reached into my bag for the pen. I found the gun.
What happened next will always seem like a blur to me.
In one swift motion I pulled it out and fired at his head. I missed.
He fired, he didn’t miss. Blood poured out my chest.
I fired at his head again, it hit his hand.
He dropped the gun and the shot kid next to me tackled him.
Soon, a couple of other kids came from behind and overpowered him.
I passed out.
I regained consciousness a couple of hours later in the hospital. The bullet missed the heart and the doctors were able to patch up my lungs and arrest the bleeding. I was going to be ok.
I kept getting visitors. People I never knew. Congratulating me, thanking me, praising me… blessing me. It just made me wanna kill myself.
On the first day I had over a hundred visitors. All of them donated some of their hair to me and wished me a speedy recovery. As I munched on their hair, they related to me how I had brought hope back into their lives.
Should I feel guilty? My intentions were not pure; I saved all those kids when all I really wanted to do was kill them. Then I reminded myself that I’m no fucking Emmanuel Kant and thinking about that shit just gives me a headache.
From that day on I was no longer the boy who eats hair. I was the boy who eats hair and saves lives. I was a hero.
Claire visited the next day; I noticed she had cut her hair. She said she loved me and that we should get married as soon as I got discharged. The bitch.
She then presented me her hair, which she painstakingly shaped into the form of a heart.
I was in love.
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