"I got you in my heart. I got you in my head.
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"I got you in my heart. I got you in my head. Let's make a rendezvous." "Sorry, I'm washing my hair." "No, you don't understand. I got you in my heart. I got you in my head. Let's
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make a rendezvous". Exasperated she paused, letting shampoo drip down her face. "How about we go the pharmacy instead and refill your prescription? Your OCD is out of control."
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"You forget, the worse my OCD gets, the more I obsessively manage my OCD. So it's under control. Let me shampoo your hairs one at a time." He began in front, carefully massaging
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his frontal lobe before finishing off after an hour of work. "Your hair is done, that'll be £10.50." The customer gives him ten pounds forty-nine. That would not do, OCD. He jumps
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up & down. "I'm an artiste. You've devalued my work. I'm just not understood!" The hair stylist drops his scissors & hair styler, crying." The customer with missing frontal lobe
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fell over dead.
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How shocking.
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Just for fun, I stuck my finger in the light socket again.
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All my hairs stood on end. Every single one, including the one's I didn't even know I had. Then they turned purple and glew purple light. I took my finger out of the socket but all
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hairs were still purple and eerily glowing. How could I go to see my friends now? I had no choice but to dress up as a mummy to the costume party to avoid embarassment.
5
- Started
- 2014-11-12 16:35:26
- Finished
- 2015-05-17 02:18:16
1 Comments
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SlimWhitman May 17 2015 @ 02:56
Thanks for jump-startting the story PP. "Crazy-do. Your a zombiie, right? Nice work, frontal lobe falling out and all. Let me guess, your hairstylist has OCD?"