At the next stoplight, I pulled down the mirror on the visor and inspected my adorable little ear. I felt the top of it for the bump I felt moments earlier and looked for a scab or something. No scab. Instead it was a pokey little hair!
Growing out of my ear!!
At some point in the previous 24 hours, I had turned into a seventy-five-year-old man with hairy ears. [Make your own Kafka joke here.]
I was stunned. So naturally I left it where it was so I could show my Unit when I picked her up.
As soon as she got into the car, I relayed the above thought process.
Her: "Why didn't you pull it out?"
Me: "Because I had to save it to show you. See??" again thrusting my hairy ear into her face whilst driving, at which point she grabs my pokey ear hair and YANKS it out.
Her: "It was a gray hair."
Me: "Fuck you, it was not."
Her: "It was."
I still had a bump on my ear (hair follicle? I dunno), so I kept picking at it the whole car ride until my Unit had to smack at my hand and tell me to pay attention to the road.
When I got home, I broke out the tweezers, pulled out what was left of the pokey ear hair, and then plucked two gray hairs that had sneaked onto my scalp despite the best efforts of my hair dresser.
It was a banner day.
(Art by ZombieBackrub on DeviantArt)