by Matthew Sanborn Smith
Joey grew his hair. Just a couple of inches at first, but then he decided to go for a foot. Before he got halfway to his goal he found he was addicted. He spent long nights fertilizing his scalp and thinking lush hairy thoughts because he believed that the hair originated in the brain. Before long, he grew impatient with the glacially-slow process. His body ached from hours at his vanity.
He began to grow other people's hair, on the sly, because he didn't know if people would want such a thing, but he had to do it. He just had to! He spritzed people at ball games and parks with his nutrient mix. He legally changed his name to Joey Hairfollicle after his inspiration, Johnny Appleseed. This destroyed his social life because, as much as any woman might want a rich, full-bodied head of hair, who could ever conceive of a long term relationship with the man? It could only end with a last name of Hairfollicle with a bunch of little Hairfollicles running around.
The whole thing left Joey crying himself to sleep at night, but he couldn't stop growing hair. It was his mission. When he tried stopping, he'd always catch hints of the remarkable lives of the people he spritzed. Reports and urban legends of those whose ear hair and nose hair had grown to disgusting lengths. Horrifying tales of tongue and eyeball hair.
One night, CNN carried a report of a woman who gave birth to conjoined twins, connected at the hair. Doctors were cautious, wanting to wait until the children were older before they attempted a risky separation procedure. Joey turned off the television, took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. He went into the bathroom to whip up another batch of spritz.