Comb (an acrostic poem)

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Couldn’t get her hair to behave

Opposite of that as a matter of fact

Might be because it had minds of its own

Because her snakes were mad she had tried to use a…

Kiwi (an acrostic poem)

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Keeping with the weird down under thing

In comes a fruit with hair that tastes kind of like a strawberry with a tropical twist

With a skin that could use a bit of a shave, while that isn’t too freaky

It was the fact you can eat the hairy part that made me shudder

Brush (an acrostic poem)

 

Black hair slowly pulled through his fingers

Releasing the locks he began to get to work

Unkempt snarls scraped by, but he gently unraveled them

Soon he was able to sweep his hands through easily

Her moans of pleasure reminded him how much he liked being a hairdresser

 

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Furry (an acrostic poem)

 

Fraser combed his arm hair against the grain

Unleashing waves of golden amber hair to crash back upon hardened muscle

Rays of sunlight danced upon the same golden coat covering his back

Really he figured he should shave some of it off

Yet there was the fun of the mystique of being part werewolf that he enjoyed

 

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Doorman (an acrostic conversation)

Do you remember when they didn’t open automatically?”

Of course I do.  I’m older than you, you fool.”

Obviously, look at your lack of hair.”

Really?  I’m going to kick you through one in just a second.”

Man, just calm down.  Back then, people, had jobs opening them.”

And where the hell are you going with this?”

Now my backup career is becoming extinct, and I never got one of the hats.”

Halloween Anticipation (a 100 word story)

Francis sharpened his knife for like the twelfth time.  Tomorrow would be Halloween, and it would finally be his time.  It had taken him weeks of sacrifice to be ready.  His guests wouldn’t be expecting what he was planning.

Suddenly goosebumps caused his arm hairs to stand at attention.  He used the knife to trim them.  Yeah, it was sharp enough.  It would part flesh with ease.  He couldn’t wait to carve his way into infamy.

Francis put another brisket into the smoker and wondered if cutting into that would feel the same as…  Well, he would see tomorrow night.

 

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Barbershop King (a 150 word story)

The barbershop smelled of talcum powder and yesteryear’s stale cigarettes.  Dale closed his eyes and felt the gentle tugs of scissors cutting through his wispy graying hair.  He remembered back to a time where he would be smoking one of those cigarettes as the barber struggled to tame his gorgeous mane.  He had been king back then, and this place had been his private den.  Now he was an aging male with a comb over and a paunch of too successful hunting.

The bell announced a new customer.  Dale opened his eyes to see Charlie come in.  Charlie rubbed what little stubble he had on the top of his noggin.  “Got time to shave me?” Charlie asked.  “My daughter is getting married this week.”

Dale smiled and closed his eyes.  He may not have much, but he had more hair than Charlie, and that was good enough for this king.

 

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