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After many hours online working on Sonya, and hopefully getting her fixed, and spending some money to do so (although less than I’ve spent before), I am going to attempt to write a Wordle for this week and see how much hair I have left when I’m done.  Rather than take a picture, I’ll let you know. . .

Allow me to explain. . .

I closed the door to the bathroom,
nothing unusual there,
but I did put some tape over the keyhole
as though somebody might care.

The box said “Sexy, Silky, Stunning & Scarlet!”
I didn’t know what to believe,
but at least I would look different –
I had no desire to deceive.

The photo on the box of her feathery locks
convinced me without a doubt
that sparks from the eyes of men I walked by
though maybe a dream, would soon bear out.

I took one more look at myself in the mirror,
giving in to vanity once more.
I opened the box, heretofore mentioned,
without saying exactly what for.

Two bottles, one tube, an ill-fitting pair of gloves,
a multilingual set of instructions,
with more warnings than you’d find on a can of strychnine,
donning those gloves were the biggest obstructions.

The next thing I did was mix two of the bottles
taking care not to spill the inky potion.
The odor was strong, but I hoped it was worth it:
a result of overwhelming envious emotion.

With ill-fitting gloves and following directions,
I squeezed onto each hair section the goop in the bottle.
Without any fear, nor one single doubt
I wet and rinsed quickly, not wanting to dawdle.

Excited to glimpse at last the beauty I once thought lost
(I had long felt faded, like a withered old soul)
My next act was to oil and clean my pistol
They shoot better that way, and I needed control.

Never in all of my millions of dreams,
and I dreamed mostly of being a redhead,
did it occur to me that one day I would sway
from the gallows for killing a sneering deadhead.

What would you have done in my place, I ask,
if you had done everything as instructed,
and got only screams and guffaws in response
when you expected that you’d be inducted –

in the hall of fame of beauty and charm,
but instead you received the booby prize,
with your visage described as the most ridiculous
sight on which anybody dead or alive laid their eyes.


Well, there you have it.  I used all the words and then quit. I know you appreciate that.  I’m glad it’s over, too.  Besides, I have to sweep up all the hair from the floor and throw it out.   I am also glad that Ashley wasn’t the first person to see me at the “unveiling.”  Then our three sons would be orphans. . .

So, what do you think? Enough?  Yeah, me too.  Enough. . .