A Novel Idea

Yesterday was interesting. When your breakfast consists of a can of Sparks and a Vicodin, your day has no choice but to be interesting.

(Yes, I really did have a Sparks and a Vicodin for breakfast, just accept the fact that I've lost my fucking mind, and we'll get along swimmingly.)


While I was driving around during work, I had an Idea. I capitalize the word "idea" because I can. I had an Idea for a novel. More of a short story, perhaps. Writing a novel would take too fucking long. The story concerns an older, balding man who happens upon a most unusual hairpiece. I dunno, he buys it from an aged Gypsy woman, or a wizened old Asian fellow (like in "Gremlins"), or a Mexican. Whatever. The details are sketchy, for now.

Anyway, after wearing the hairpiece for a few days, our protagonist discovers that it grants him strange, mystical powers. "'What powers', you ask?" Not the power of flight ("That's levitation, Holmes."). Stuff like being able to influence people's thoughts and actions, and other shady, manipulative shit. For awhile all is well, and Hairpiece Guy (I don't have a name yet. Maybe...Fred? Sure, Fred it is.) enjoys the spoils of being able to do pretty much as he pleases. But, as time passes, Fred comes to realize that his newfound powers come at a price. Bad Shit starts to happen to his loved ones. Shit for which he is inadvertently responsible, and unable to prevent or repair with his Hairpiece Powers.

Fred tries to get rid of the evil rug, but to his horror, it won't come off! He returns to the Gypsy/Asian/Mexican/Whatever for help and finds (again, to his horror) that they have been killed in a most decidedly morbid, bloody, twisted way (to be determined at a later time...something involving pliers, steel wool, and hot sauce, I'm thinking). Fred finds a mysterious looking book near the corpse, and upon reading its contents is horrified (there's a lot of horror going around) to discover that his hairpiece was woven from Satan's pubic hair!

The Devil's dick fur!

Beelzebub's bush!

Old Scratch's thatch!

Mephistopheles' muff!

Lucifer's lint!

El Diablo's dandruff!


Ummm...


The First of The Fallen's filaments!


(Okay, that's quite enough of that...)


Anywhoo, I don't know what happens after that. I need more Sparks and Vicodin (A Shawno Speedball) to come up with a proper resolution for my book. I do, however, have The Perfect Title for my tome...


"HELL TOUPEE"


Hee.


Wow, that was one long-ass set-up for a shitty joke, wasn't it?

Sorry about that...I had to do it.

It's been stuck in my head since yesterday.