Hair Today, Still There Tomorrow


I'M A senior--on the brink of being admitted into the company of educated men and women--and there are still things that even I do not understand. This worries me. I have very little time left to make amends before I will be forced into a pathetic little life of misery and sadness, during which my peers will mock me mercilessly at every opportunity. You can always count on peers for that.

Therefore I am sending out a distress signal to the world. Please answer my call, save me from the terrible fate that awaits an ignoramus admitted into the company of educated men and women. The list of things I cannot figure out is long-ranging, from problems of organic chemistry to why we get no credit for missed meals in the dining hall. But at least if I can get a few items answered I will have made some progress.

In particular there is one recurring mystery...something that has plagued me thoughout my conscious life. No, it has nothing to do with the shape of the splotch on Gorbachev's head. My problem lies much, much deeper.

It is this: why is there always hair on my toothpaste in the morning?

In high school I used to think that it was just my brother revelling in one of the banes of my existence, seeing hair where it just shouldn't be. Hair gives me the willies when it lies around in unusual places, so imagine my angst at having to live daily with a new clump of hair on my toothpaste every morning without fail year after year.


ONE OF my major reasons for going to college was to get away from whoever it was in my family who was in charge of putting the hair on the toothpaste. (They all denied it, of course.) Yet the phenomenon continued throughout freshman year. At night I would check the toothpaste carefully, and put the cover on tightly. Every morning I would rush to the sink and unscrew the toothpaste, and there it was--a series of brown hairs stuck smack dab in the middle of the tube opening.

I tried sleeping accross the doorway to the bathroom so that anyone who entered would wake me up. One night I was awakened by my roommate. "AH HA!" I screamed, my tongue and limbs failing in all directions.

Of course, he pretended he was just going to use the bathroom," and he called me a crazy nut. The fool! Did he think I could so easily be duped? I knew what he was up to. Obviously the person in charge of hair application in my home had arranged with my roommate to secretly carry on the tradition. I slept well that night.

Yet the next year, with different roommates, the phenomenon continued. Could my family be so ruthless as to continue the joke, admittedly funny for the first 10 years, throughout my entire college career? I decided it was time to confront them. I gathered my entire family and my roommates together for a meeting.

I GUESS you're wondering why I called you all here today," I said, not being able to resist the temptation to exercise my rapier-like wit.

"Yes, son, what is the issue of 'vital importance' for which you pleaded with us to fly to Boston?" The question came from my mother, who, I suspected, knew damn well why I had asked them to come.

"Mom, dad, brother, roommates...I...know what you are up to, and I think it's time we brought it all out into the open. I wish to begin my life anew without early morning aggravation," I said, then pausing for dramatic effect. "So which one of you slimeballs is behind the hair on my toothpaste?!?"

I produced the hairy tube of "Crest" and waved it in fury, as the crowd gasped in shock. They all firmly denied any involvement, and two years later, after I was finally released from the mental hospital into which I was imprisoned for no good reason, I returned to school to finish my education.

So here I am, a senior, entirely finished with the core curriculum, and still unable to solve my early morning mystery. The hair I pulled off the toothpaste this morning was brown and about two inches long. Sound familiar? If you have any information that may be applicable to the case--or if you yourself wish to finally come clean--please contact me. I promise to ensure that your death is carried out in a painless and humane fashion.