Hairy Situation

You're balding, in your thirties and tonight you realised that your head is exceptionally scarce of hair. Maybe it's the blind date that got you nervous. You're nervous that people might compare you to the striking gal that you'll be dining with. That, or you're a modest man and wouldn't want people to have the impression that you're rich. Because your fading best shoes will give you away.

You went to a pricey Japanese restaurant and waited for AngelinaT.

"Omedeto"

Okay. All is fair. The striking gal you viewed and sent flattering comments on her pictures in Myspace isn's so striking after all. She is not 25-28-45 but 52-82-54. She's a photo editor for a chinese tabloid magazine. No wonder. You youself posted headshots from a peculiar angle that hid the true condition of your hair. Okay. All is fair.

After an awkward dinner, your date loosened up and asked you questions related to your job. She's in her thirties. She's desperate and straight to the point. She wants to know how much you're worth, whether or not the depth of your pockets compensates the density of your hair follicles.

"I'm in sales."

"What do you sell?"

"I sell ladders."

"Oh, I see... for a company..."

"For a company near Damai there."

She stood up. Her stomach slightly potruding from her big belt that she thinks gives her an illusion of a waist. Normal people wouldn't have notice this but you can. You are an expert of anything slight, scarce and the gray between slight and scarce. Every morning you practice your innate comparative skills in front of the miror.

What you don't notice is she'd been figuring out the nature of your hair. People do this all the time that you are delusioned to think of them as passing gestures.

"Thank you for dinner.... ermm..."

You refuse to remind her of your name. You're more inclined to be known as SuperClimber75. The irony of your name is too much for you to bear, let alone to AngelinaT.

"This is my card" Not a good sign.

She gave you her card. Tin Chen May. Okay.

You gave your card. Robert Hei. All is fair.

You went back home frustrated with yourself, especially your hair. The condoms in your wallet expired today. But it's not the condom's fault that you walked out of Kimogo empty handed. It's your hair. You've applied expensive hair tonics for half a decade even though you see no result, other than your hair smelling like Spring Garden. Yes, it's the hair tonic. That stupid hair tonic. That useless hair tonic. That fucking motherfisher hair tonic!

You're no longer the strong silent type you described yourself in Myspace. You cursed your way to the hair treatment centre where you religiously bought your hair tonics.

The girl at the customer service desk frowned when you came into the office. She smelled trouble. And Spring Garden.

"I want my money back!"

"What seems to be the..."

You nod your head to let the ambient lighting reflect itself on Amber's squinting eyes. You took out your wallet and threw your membership card on the desk. Amber took your card and handed it back to you. You felt dejected and betrayed. You put your Zapdos back to your wallet. You gave her the wrong card. You gave her Zapdos, your favourite Pokemon card.

"I'm sorry sir but we don't do refunds"

"What!!!"

"But you can file a complain and we'll do our best to solve your problem, whatever it might be. Fill in this form right hair, I mean here."

You had enough. You stormed out and lost it. You remembered nothing else that happened from that point on.

Your telephone rang. You woke up with your legs aching. You asked yourself "What happened last night?" You answered the phone.

"Ini encik Robert?"

"Ya, saya Robert."

"Encik Robert, ketua customer service Syarikat Tangga Lam?"

"Ya ya.."

"Encik Robert, saya Inspector Ahmad..."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"...dari polis trafik Petaling Jaya. Saya rasa ada orang tinggalkan tangga panjang sekitar jalan kilometer 2 dekat Petaling Jaya ni dekat dengan iklan besar.... jadi... saya nak syarikat encik tolong pindahkan tangga tu sebab ia menghalang trafik."

You were sighed in relief. "Baik Inspektor"

You rushed to kilometer 2 PJ, picked up a long ladder leaning on a billboard and left the scene with a dash.

End

(I took the picture and felt that the torn billboard deserves a good story so there you go!)