Slowly I drifted off, dreaming of fields of flowers… tiger lily sunrises… the beautiful beach waves as they dance along the shore and wither away at the sand… the smell of … rotting flesh?
Then a great rumbling, clanking metal, squeaking metallic joints, the rumbling grew and worsened and became a bouncing kind of shaking. My brain rattled within my skull. My head bashed against the window. I looked up, and a dirty, wiry-haired man sat placidly next to me, occasionally muttering, “Alex, you had better leave me alone!” waving the air to his right.
“KING AND MAUNAKEA” chimed the automated bus voice. The doors opened, and all remnants of earthly beauty dissolved into diesel fumes.
First, it begins slowly. An itch. A realization that outliers crept up from the depths. Breaking through slowly, these creeping monsters were a sort of slow growth. Like conscious vines suddenly realizing the existence of sunlight, they pierce through the top layer of skin, causing no pain, but a sudden awareness.
“Ugh. Eyebrow hairs”
Little ones. Long ones. Mercilessly thick ones. Only revealed by the breeze as it ruffles in the wind. A victorious mockery that comes with persisting so long unnoticed.
The continuous drone of computers in the office, the cold air, the silence between coworkers… all of the typical ennui left this ceaseless desire to explore something interesting. Perchance to pinch the hairs, tug at them, make what was once smooth and seamless - now prickly and irregular - revert back to its previous glory.
“Turn back time…? Why yes… just… one… pluck…”
And with fat fingers and blunt short nails grasping clumsily at the demons, more than five hairs were relieved from their follicles, leaving a patch of hairless misery in their place…
- Stephane “Charb” Charbonnier, Charlie Hebdo editorial director
RIP to the Charlie Hebdo staff, we stand with you
There are times you are faced with a challenge and you say to yourself, “No, not today,” and save your fighting strength for another day.
Then there are times you forget you are semi-lactose intolerant, and accidentally order a regular milk latte instead of a soy one, and by the time you realize this you’re already in your office chair and have just finished a massive gulp of regular milk. The medium cup stares you in the face stoically, as all cups do, but this, a sort of Trojan horse that you can just imagine smiling maniacally at your weaknesses.
“Yes… today, we will fight.”