As I approached my apartment block my pace had involuntarily slowed to cautious edging. Cautious to the extent that it took me nine boring hours to cross my street and when I did finally cross, I was inexplicably naked and covered in crude street art. I covered my genitals with cupped hands and made a dash for the stairs.
I was in the middle of my third stride when a large butterfly net dropped over me, prohibiting my movement entirely. Before I could fully comprehend the situation I was plucked from the ground and half carried, half dragged away. The only glimpse I got of my abductor revealed that he wore a large red, satin cape that appeared to billow despite the lack of wind. It was shortly afterward that I passed out.
* * * * *
I ebbed into consciousness with fluttering eyes and meaty exertions. I had no idea where I was but it sure as hell looked like the walls of this place were made of animal skeletons. A blue tarpaulin stretched above me, dulling the sunlight and concealing my sense of environment. My head didn’t throb quite as much but the events of the morning were still distressingly vivid. Where the hell was I?
“Oh joy! You’re awake, Jack.”
I craned my head toward the direction of the familiar voice. What at first looked like nothing more than a blurry silhouette slowly came into focus. It was Max. He was wearing the large cape that I’d glimpsed earlier and taking a kettle from the stove. He looked frustratingly content.
“Would you like some tea? It’s a special blend that I’m certain you’ll enjoy.”
“I want to know where the fuck I am!”
“You’re at my place, Jack. Believe me it wasn’t safe in your apartment.”
Max walked carefully toward me with a steaming mug of tea that had a harsh odour to it. Several awkward seconds passed where I refused to accept the offering. Slightly defeated, he placed the tea beside me. “You really should drink up, Jack. It’ll do you the world of good.”
“Just tell me why I’m here. What happened to my apartment?”
“Let’s just say you had some guests waiting eagerly for your return. I take it you’re not a very well liked man at the moment?”
“Whatever gave you that idea?”
“There were men waiting for you in your apartment.”
“I was being sarcastic you fucking retard!”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I…”
“Just cut it out, will ya? Who the hell are you?”
“But I already introduced myself. I’m Max.”
“Yeah, I know your fucking name but what’s your deal? Why have you been terrorising the Hair District?”
I felt as if the plug had been pulled on common sense and it was all draining away into nothingness.
“I tried to tell you last night, Jack, but you felt it necessary to give me a nasty whack. I would have told you this morning but you were keen as a bean to leave.”
“Well I’m all ears now.”
“The simplest way for me to put it is to say that I am a scientist engaged in field research.” Max took a sip of his tea and spat it out instantly. “Wow, that tastes particularly dreadful. I wouldn’t recommend touching yours, Jack.”
“Yeah, thanks for tip. What do you mean field research?”
“I wish to embark upon a process that could have a detrimental effect on the Hair District. At the same time, this process will almost certainly benefit mankind. Well, womankind primarily.”
“Care to enlighten me about this ‘process’?”
Max shifted in his chair and removed his cape, which he placed carefully at his side. He contorted his fingers into an intricate knot that he rested on his chin before continuing. “What do you know about menstruation, Jack?”
“As little as possible,” I replied with slight embarrassment.
Max outstretched his hand, as if attempting to stifle my embarrassment. “No, that’s okay. I’ll fill you in on a few things.”
Against my better judgement I gave him a nod, allowing him to continue.
“You see, Jack, menstruation wasn’t exactly a biological development. In fact, if we go back as little as a hundred and fifty years ago, there was no menstruation.”
My eyebrows rose in utter disbelief. “You’re a blade short of a pair of scissors.”
“I know it sounds absurd at first but please, hear me out.”
Once again I nodded, this time with a little less patience.
Max continued, “The world is governed by patriarchal ideals, Jack. The world of a hundred and fifty years ago was a deeply misogynistic one. I’d argue that in a great many ways it still is. Any misogyny you witness today however is nothing compared to back then. There was a deep-seated concern in the mid 1800s that women would soon rise to power and crush the dominion of the patriarchy. There was evidence everywhere you looked. Women were forming idealistic groups with the sole purpose of taking down the established system. Wages for women were rising astronomically. All of a sudden the common man didn’t feel too comfortable. There were meetings arranged at a very high level with the aim of rectifying the problem.
“My great, great grandfather was a key component of these meetings and a prominent scientist. He was one of several men charged with the task of reversing the ‘woman dilemma’ as it was known. It was quickly decided that propaganda wouldn’t be an effective course of action and might even do more harm than good. So they looked to my great, great grandfather to create a physical barrier within the body of womankind itself. This, Jack, was the origin of the menstrual cycle.
“Propaganda was eventually used but it was only to dupe women into receiving vaccinations for a mysterious virus that never actually existed. This vaccination ultimately delivered menstruation to the world. What was so ingenious about the injected menstruation was that it only needed to be applied to an individual once. After menstruation was planted it was engineered to pass onto any eventual female offspring. The menstruation was designed to emerge during the pubescent years and fade away when the potential usefulness of a woman was deemed over. This resulted in that strange phenomenon known as menopause.”
I had become literally dumbstruck by Max’s story. I’d never heard anything with so many logical loopholes in my life but his enthusiasm was strangely admirable, even if it did indicate extreme delusional psychosis. So many questions swam about my skullspace but there was only one I was interested in.
“So, what does this shit have to do with me?” I was staring at Max intensely, willing a satisfactory answer to come forward.
“It’s because of your standing within the District, Jack. I’m in a position where the repercussions of my actions won’t be significant enough to provide satisfactory empathic data.” His hands gesticulated with each word, earnest passion leaking from him like sweat.
“You’re going to have to dumb it down for me. What ‘position’ are you in that requires my input?”
“Don’t you see? I’m bald, Jack!”
My face was drooping with incomprehension. “What the hell does being bald have to do with anything?”
A look of apology washed across Max’s face. “Oh, I haven’t told you the bit that involves you yet, have I?”
I shook my head, partly in response but mostly in bemusement.
“Well Jack, if I follow through with abolishing menstruation…”
I cut him off instantly. “What do you mean ‘abolishing menstruation’? You’re making less sense the more you talk. Do you have any idea how fucking nuts you sound?”
Max shifted uncomfortably in his chair, rubbing at his legs fiercely. “Do you know what makes this so sad, Jack? I had spent hours rehearsing every little thing I was going to tell you. I get so caught up in the moment that I leave out the most important parts. If you’ll allow, I’d like to fill you in.”
I huffed like a moody teen. “Well you’ve come this far, why stop now?”
“Thank you, Jack!” Max repositioned himself and prepared for what I hoped would be the rest of the story. “Okay, so women all over the world have
been infected with menstruation which, for a period of time, achieves the desired goal. Many feel ashamed and many feel as if there is something gravely wrong with them. All doctors – and we’re talking on an international scale here, Jack – have been requested to inform concerned women that menstruation has always existed and every woman is afflicted. The trust instilled in the family doctor meant that the lie was a surprisingly easy pill to swallow. The shame associated with the vaginal area ensured that most women never spoke of it. Those that did were deemed crass to the point of imprisonment. It was the birth of the biggest conspiracy ever perpetrated by mankind.
“It didn’t take long before my great, great grandfather began to regret everything he had helped instigate. His scientific detachment gave way to empathy and he made it his mission to reverse the onset of menstruation. He began working tirelessly on a remedy. The walls had eyes and ears though, Jack, and he was soon discovered. Just as he completed his first trial batch of ‘woebegone’, as he called it, he was set upon by pornography. It was a physical manifestation of pornography sent by some very powerful people to kill him. He was dead in an instant.
“My great grandfather came across his notes and the first batch of woebegone several decades later. He was no scientist and couldn’t even decipher the rudiments. However, he was instinctive enough to know that they were important. As such, everything was stored in a vat of my great grandmother’s chutney where he was sure it wouldn’t be touched – my great grandmother was renowned for her unpleasant chutney.
“As luck would have it, shortly after my grandfather was born, he stumbled upon the chutney vat and went for a swim that nearly took his life. When he was eventually rescued – several months later – my great, great grandfather’s notes were attached to his legs. Whereas most children of sound mind exhibited love for a favourite teddy bear or doll, my grandfather became enamoured with the notes. Thankfully he was in possession of mild scientific aptitude. He could sense their import almost immediately. He handed the notes down to my father and instilled a love of science that ultimately lead to a failed batch of woebegone. This same love of science was eventually handed down to me and I finally perfected the woebegone formula. I’ve been sitting on the woebegone for decades and it has become apparent that I need to act. I will ultimately end menstruation.”
I was staring hard into Max’s eyes, trying to extract jest from his story. No matter how hard I stared, Max was as earnest as ever. “I have no doubt that you’re nuttier than a testicle factory, Max, but you haven’t even touched on how I’m involved in this.”
Max nodded in agreement before taking another sip of tea. He sprayed the putrid broth from his mouth in disgust, seemingly unaware that he had already endured it once. “Wow, that tastes particularly dreadful. I wouldn’t recommend touching yours, Jack.”
“Duly fucking noted. Get to the point.”
“Of course, I’m sorry, Jack. You see, the onset of menstruation had a particularly unusual side effect. Unusual in that the side effect befell the male population. It stumped them then and it still stumps us now. You see, Jack, men never used to have hair. The minute females began to experience menstruation hair began to sprout from the male head.”
I clenched my fists into white hot balls, feeling an intense urge to punch him. Who the fuck did this whacko think I was? Did he really think anyone, let alone me, would fall for this cock and bull story? Max could clearly sense the rage my disbelief was causing and defensively waved twinkly fingers at me. This calmed me for reasons beyond my understanding.
“So after all of that, it leaves me with you, Jack. I have every reason to believe that if I enact my plan and the menstruation stops, all men will lose their hair once more. I’ve been watching you for several weeks and I can think of no one more qualified to understand the detriment my actions may cause. At the same time, if I do follow through with it, I need to do it in the place it would affect the most. I need to know how bad it could get.”
I glared at Max in stubborn silence. I had been to hell in the last couple of days and for what? For this? For some nutjob to unload his delusional fantasies on me? For some bald bastard to fuck up the only thing I truly loved? The District was my heart and Max’s jar toppling antics were the hands wrenching it from my chest. I didn’t want to say a word to him because there was nothing worth saying. There were no words qualified enough to express my desolation; my rage. There was only the growing silence, which clearly made Max uncomfortable and filled me with a fleeting sense of power and control.
He stood up and walked toward a tiny chest of drawers. I watched in detachment. From the top drawer he retrieved a small jar of red pills, which he shook nervously in his hand like a medicinal maraca. The drawer was gently closed and Max made his way back to the chair.
“These pills, Jack, they’ll show you what it’s like to be female. They’ll force you to feel what so many women were designed to feel. These pills will temporarily inflict the symptoms of menstruation. I can’t make you help me and concede that expecting your counsel is quite unlikely. But I need you to feel it, Jack.”
He placed the pills carefully on my chin and I stared at them in their spherical perfection.
“I need to leave for a few days. I plead with you to stay here. It’s not safe for you on the streets. I sincerely apologise for any misery my actions may have caused. Really I do. Just think about what I’ve told you. Take the pills, Jack. I hope you’ll still be here when I return.”
Max tightened his cape and headed out the door, turning around one final time to reiterate, “Take the pills, Jack.” I stared at the closed door for what felt like hours until the overwhelming thought broke through, what’s with that stupid fucking cape?!
* * * * *
I wasn’t about to start shoving mysterious pills down my throat, especially if they came from that maniacal bald man. Who knows what they were laced with? I’d probably swallow the pill and find my dick slurping into my body like wet spaghetti. I had one goal in mind. I had to get back into the good books with my comrades from the District. If I didn’t, my life was fucked. I readily admit that I knocked over Billy’s jars but it was completely accidental. I was even willing to endure some form of punishment for the mistake. If it meant that I had a shaved head for a while, so be it.
I needed rest and I needed plenty of it. When my head was clear I would simply amble into the District with an apologetic smile and take it from there. It was up to them to forgive me. I just hoped they could find it in their hearts. It was a tall order. I shut my eyes and sleep struck me instantly. I dreamt a montage of slimy tongues licking up coffee rings from various surfaces. It was strangely cathartic.
I awoke in reasonably high spirits surrounded by bowls. I hadn’t collected bowls in my sleep since my pubescent years and my return to old ways intrigued me. I brushed them aside and embraced the dull chinking sounds with open ears. My bladder was long like a bank queue and if I didn’t get the piss out of me soon it was bound to burst like a bank queue. Max’s abode didn’t appear to contain a toilet of any sort so I filled several of the bowls that now littered his house.
I approached the only door Max had with optimism. An optimism that was dashed the second I stepped outside.
“There he is!” someone yelled as they threw a pair of barber’s scissors with devastating velocity. I caught a flash of their angry face before a blur of spinning steel engulfed my vision. My forehead stopped the blur and the scissors lodged with a cartoon-like twang. I fell backward, instinctively pulling the door shut with a hooked foot. I clutched at the scissors, feeling my warm blood trickle like a weak fountain. There was no real pain at first, just surprise and a deafening ringing in my ears. When the pain did hit a few minutes later it burnt like lightning. I howled with tears, which instantly gave me an erection. While my wanking hand went to work, the other grasped at the scissors in my forehead. All the while the blood and tears merged on my chin before arcing to the floor. As I ejaculated I recalled how angry the
scissor thrower had looked, which caused my semen to retreat back into my testicles and shiver like an orphaned lamb.
The ringing in my ears faded, giving way to the multitudes which had now gathered outside Max’s house. They were screaming for my hair; for my death. Slamming at the walls with bare feet and hacking at the front door with scissors and combs. The door splintered and cracked but somehow refused to give in. I was faced with imminent death and strangely, all I could think about was the packet of Barber’s Delight chips which had been crushed beneath my fall earlier.
I crawled back into the bed that Max had prepared for me, curled into a world-ignoring ball and closed my eyes. I was inside the chip packet, empathising with each and every chip as they became crushed into crumbs. I moved in to hug them, to mourn them, but I was also crushed. I could feel every crumbled speck of myself as if still connected by phantoms but I had no control. Instead I felt every piece of myself assimilate into the potato dust; felt every piece of myself screaming in private torment, I don’t belong here.
* * * * *
I opened my eyes to calm. The multitudes were gone. I reached for my forehead, already half-assuming it had all been a dream. The scissors were still lodged as painfully as ever. I picked at the clotted blood, inviting fresh flow. I felt utterly trapped and alone. I even found myself longing for the return of Max. I didn’t want to be alone in this mess. How could they all shun me so utterly? Hadn’t my work meant anything to any of them? Couldn’t they see that I lived and breathed the District just as they did? I was a part of them as they were a part of me. Wiping me out of the District should be sadomasochism on their part. At least that’s what I would have thought. Now I was seeing things differently, in an uncomfortable new light. They didn’t need me. They didn’t care.
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