Poor Mojo's Almanac(k) Classics (2000-2011)
| HOME | FICTION | POETRY | SQUID | RANTS | archive | masthead |
Fiction #427
(published March 26, 2009)
by Tantra Bensko
In San Francisco, we take costumes VERY seriously. People work hard at the ridiculous. That's what holds us together, like a glue. I guess you could say it's what glues hair on our chests.

And I'm the master at glueing hair on chests, though I don't do much of that mundane work any more at all. Most guys can handle that simple chest job themselves, don't really need me for it, as you can be pretty random and messy about it. You don't have to get to any hard to reach places or be precise, or have an artistic touch. You just slather on that popular hair growth product twice a day and unbutton your shirt to show it off.

Have you ever read the warnings on Reegained? If you put some of it on your head at night hoping to regrow your hair, and you sink benignly, trustingly, onto a pillow, you may wake up with hair on your forehead, where it was resting on the stained pillow. Some people end up with hairy necks from getting it on their collars. The worst is a few scraggly hairs along the nose. That's what gave me the idea to begin with when I started painting it on my neck for a choker. I started putting little beads in it all the way around, and it attracted a lot of attention right off the bat.

One of the most rewarding places for designs is bald spots, because they respond the fastest. Put a bit of it right in the center, shaped like a heart with an arrow right above where the hairline would be, if you want to go traditional. One guy got his guru's initials right on the top of his head. Said it would remind him to keep his personal vows of chastity, just knowing it was there. It's like when monks shave the bald spot at their crown chakra to remind them of transcendence, I guess.

A lot of people go for the savage look, the Indian war paint look. But it's not that hard for a person to do himself, once I show him how it's done. I know other people need to express themselves with the art of hair, too.

I thought of the idea for a contest for my clients because too many people were starting to paint with Reegained on their own. I needed to do something to make sure people realized a professional person who knew how to paint with hair was where it's at. The epitome of the new Northern California art scene.

Some people were already getting ready for Burning Man. One couple was going as Sasquatches. And of course, that needed Hair. Hair everywhere. And neck extensions. You should have heard them practicing their vocalizations.

So, OK, you all know about Burning Man, right? It's an art festival in the desert in Nevada, and the motto is: No spectators. Only participants. You go in costume, you knock yourself out building stages and art installations and bars and art cars that are actually ships gliding across the sand. And then you immediately tear it down. Like those Tibetan monks doing sand mandalas in the malls. Except Burning Man ain't no mall.

Anyway, there was one guy who came to me every day for a touch up of Reegained everywhere on his whole body. He was so psyched for Burning Man, to be a barber's pole. So he had hair wound all the way around his body the way that stripe goes on the pole. He was a redhead, so it really worked. I know you think—Jeez, how are these guys ever going to get the chicks that way? Believe me, in our crowd of one offs, it's what works.

I have a very successful hair art parlor called Nut'n Gained and I plan on keeping it that way. So, when people get the idea they can paint masterpieces with Reegained by their lonesome, I live and let live, but I have to let them know, hey, I'm a professional. I've studied this. Maybe not in college, cause this is cutting edge art. Maybe someday, there will be classes in painting with hair. Maybe I'll teach it. But for now, if you want the only expert in the world, well, I'm your man.

Maybe you've heard of me. Albini. You may remember me: I usually wear contacts with split pupils. You have probably never seen me out of costume. I am the one who wears a kind of specialty beard. I put two Slinkies inside my beard, and divide it in two, let it dangle, covering the Slinkies, and then reattach it at the back of my hair. I then braid them together and let them fall together down the middle of my back. I include bells inside them so when I dance, my back beard jingles.

You can imagine the fun we have in my hair art parlor. One woman really gets me going. She has brown hair, really thick, and is kind of dykey without being a dyke. A strong, lean woman, she angles toward you. She wears her hair spiky, and she wanted something more aggressive. So she comes in regular to keep her lines in shape. She has thick brown lines that go all the way down her legs, three to each leg. They stick out like a horse's main. Straight out, straight lines, perfect. I don't know what it's like to have sex with her, but I can imagine it would give a new sensation to feel that hair moving along your legs like a stiff brush. She'd be a real hit at the car washes. I swear, she could make a living that way.

The hair circus contest show ended up being sold out. People could be dancing with a guy who was wearing no shirt and with a hair on his chest shaped like a tie, and painted with stars and stripes, for Christ sake! So, the stage was everywhere. The energy was buzzing. Someone with hair all over like an ape was swinging from a vine attached to the rafters, making ape sounds. Everyone was in costume, even the spectators.

People got happy when the bunny triplets came up on stage. They were hardcore Bunnyjammers who really took the whole thing seriously. I would never do that. Grow hair all over my face and hands and paint it in pastel colors, and put on those bunny ears.

Go hopping all over the place. At least they were only wearing bunny slippers, and didn't go so far as to get their feet done. But you know, there is really a bunny fetish. People like having sex with bunny wannabes. Go figure. But they were cute, really made your heart go a little soft. When the ape guy was swinging over them, though, he grabbed at one of them, and though I don't think he meant to, he pulled off her ears. He kept swinging around trying to get back to her to give them back, but his aim wasn't that good.

One of the Sisters of Per Pet Y'all Mercy came up with her cheeks all pink with big dots of dyed hair on each one. She took a deep bow and said something about being cheekier than ever. And bent over, and said we could look at her other cheeks later. Those Sisters take my heart.

Horrors the Klown came up and he had become more disturbing than ever, with his nose made of hair now, painted all red. His nostrils were a little oversized before, so now the hair filled them in a little and he looked even more dashing. His eyebrows were accentuated with much more hair, and he told a little story about how Klowns needed masturbation more that other people, playing off a slightly pathetic mode in an impishly sexy way. He shrugged, and turned up his hands, like, but who can blame me? And people could see the new fur job on his palms, and broke down laughing.

I tell you, I couldn't have organized all I did without sponsorship from my collaborator, Destiny, from Spear of Destiny tattoo parlor. He knew a good idea when he saw one, and so we went in together on a lot of the designs. One guy calling himself Eyeore came out on stage, and I was really glad there was some live cam going on, so he could be projected close up on the wall. If you looked closely at his forehead, you could make it out, in the dim light, even from a distance. He had a third eye that was tattooed in, and I had put eyelashes and an eyebrow in. It took forever to get the eyelashes long enough. And Destiny had done his famous glow in the dark tattoo right in the reflection in the pupil. It was just amazing. Eyeore came out all slinky, throwing a lot of psychic weight into it. Suddenly he turned to face us, his face down, filled with animalism, and his third eye stare sent a shiver through the crowd.

Horrors wasn't quite off stage when Eyeore came up, and so Horrors decided to go back, and grabbed him with his hairy palms over that eye. Eyeore started staggering around like he couldn't see anymore. It was good improv, but I was worried about those eyelashes. Then, he twisted around so fast Horror's hands slipped off, and Eyeore stared at him like he was mesmerizing him. Bent towards him like a charging bull. Started making a buzzing sound. And Horrors pretended to be entranced. He backed up, holding his hairy palms out in front of him to stave off Eyeore. They slowed to a crawl, each movement forward, backward, holding great moment. The crowd got really quiet, except for the occasional yell.

The three bunnies apparently had a plan, as they hopped sideways across the stage at a amazing clip, all saying in unison, "don't try this at home sober, folks". Destiny started collapsing, lay down dramatically on the floor and was "hypnotized" at us. And Eyeore turned to us slowly, raised his arms over his head, and said "Eye Am the Power!" The audience clapped and whistled, and got back to their flirting.

The bunnies came back on and pulled Horrors the Klown off stage, dragging him as his huge black and white polka dotted outfit caught the breeze and ballooned up in front, as it was flattened under his back. The bunnies were tittering between themselves. As they reached the corner of the stage, the bunnies started one at a time standing up and bending their knees to a squat, in perfectly timed unison, two up, one down, two down, one up, Staring at him pleasantly. It was revival magic, and Horrors miraculously leapt up and hugged them, and squeezed their bunny breasts affectionately, before they all hopped off the stage and into the darkness.

The music got darker, more intense, big booms and violas sounding heartfelt. And Christ was seen dragging his cross through the crowd. Slowly, step by step. You could feel the weight of his burden. He was a good looking guy, the main requirement for a Messiah. The Sisters of Per Pet Y'all Mercy had rewarded him the Hunky Jesus contest winner the year before on Easter, and maybe it went to his head a little. As, there, on his shaven head, was crown of fur. All the way around, spiked up and going this way and that. You know, I dreamed one night that Christ was coming down into my reality and telling me that because I was doing the hair crown I couldn't make it into hell. I said, "Don't you mean heaven, Jesus?"

"Heaven? Heaven is for wussies," he replied. I nodded my head seriously. You don't want to argue with Jesus when he's copping a 'tude.

Jesus made it up to the stage with great pomp and suffering, and stood there, balancing his cross, which was covered with a fake palomino hide, those black and white colors looking crisp and gorgeous next to Jesus. The crown of fur had some fake blood coming down from it, which he had just applied, so it was still drippy. His arms were tied to the cross with furry ropes. People gasped. Their laughter turned up to a sort of nervously hysterical notch. They were getting a little redder and the heat in the place was taking over, it was so crowded. The drinks were flowing. Jesus looked really hot with the strobe light with that black and white cross and the red of the blood.

The woman with the fur lines down her legs went up on stage and she was duded up with the whole dominatrix get up. She would have looked sexy in high black leather boots but that would be counter productive with those horse manes on her legs. She took her whip out of her belt and started whipping him a bit about the edges. He looked more gaunt somehow, pulling in his cheeks. A man with a hair shirt came up. He had applied that one himself, with some help from his friends, so he wasn't eligible for the prize. He started prostrating himself to Jesus, and to the dom, and she whipped him a bit as well. He seemed to like that, and Jesus granted him his blessing before stepping of the stage.

The barber's pole came out and just stood there. People just kept laughing, the sound dying down, as he wasn't doing anything, but then someone would start chuckling again and it would get contagious. A redheaded stripper named Alyson came out and she had very special breasts. She was a hairy one naturally, and she told me that back when she had had a brief stint as a professional stripper, they made her wear chintzy plastic pasties, which she detested, but they had let her keep her hair, under her arms, her legs, and the mess of pubic hair. I love the natural look, feel like it makes them more like goddesses. I worship the body, and now, I worship hair, so I was down with her act. She was wearing a flower outfit, and then when she stripped, since we weren't supposed to have nudity, she was wearing no pasties but instead, had red hair that I had put all around her areolas she could do a comb over, use some hair spray, and cover up her nipples! I had hoped nipples would grow hair for her but it didn't work. At first we got disappointed, but we realized with the possibilities of the comb over.

So, onstage, she went over to the barber's pole and used him as a stripper's pole! I was glad I hadn't had time to learn about what all the acts were going to be. It was nice to be surprised. The barber's pole was doing a great job of not smiling. They must have practiced already, to keep him from getting too excited. I had a feeling they liked each other, and that was one thing I thought was special about this event. It drew people together. They saw things in each other they wouldn't have seen otherwise. They tended to be sort of eccentric people, as you can imagine, and sometimes, it's hard to find real companionship, being so different. How do you find close enough kinship for the kind of soul relationship we all want? There was a kind of love vibe going on that was heart warming, and I think the audience could feel it. It wasn't like a stripper just thinking about how the audience would judge her. It was like a little love dance between the stripper and the stripper's pole. Ever think about that? That's one of the most intimate relationships a stripper has. So it was like being a voyeur with a love dance between two willing participants. One was just sort of stiff.

So, then a guy dressed as a furry bee came up and started buzzing around. He wasn't really furred up, just looked like it in his bee suit he'd worn to Burning Man the year before. But that was ok. I mean, you can't really expect someone to want to go around like a bee all the time, can you? He wasn't a true contestant, but I bet he was looking forward to splitting the prize with those two. So, he buzzed up to her and went right to her red haired nipples. And he started peeling them back like they were flowers. Then, people got it. He couldn't pull them back all the way, or the bar could get in trouble, so he stuck in his long tongue and smiled and exclaimed to the audience, in the strangest voice I have ever heard: "HONaaa!"

This last couple weeks had been pretty intense. Getting everything organized, though Horrors and Destiny did a lot of that. But everyone needed constant touch ups to make sure his hair was at its most fine and furry. Each person had to just run into Nut'n Gained and get done, and I even had to started letting an assistant do some of the easier touch ups. I really didn't want to spread it around like that, but I let Guyerson do the touch ups. I liked how he was so good natured, some guy that had gone to school with Destiny. And Destiny had once given him the best tattoo in the world as far as I'm concerned. It was on his rear end, with Destiny's signature glow-in-the-dark bits, a portrait of their homecoming queen as the Queen of Clubs.

Guyerson, former loser, had gotten so much attention from that he was all about body modification. He gave his tattooed Queen a piercing through her nose. He wanted one through his own nose, but we talked him out of it, because of the way he laughs. He squirts mucus out his nose sometimes, chortles. He's a likable guy, always happy even though you wonder sometimes what it is exactly he has to be quite so happy about. So he made a good assistant. Or, Ass-istant, as he liked to call himself, patting his tattooed backside.

So, the bonus act was Guyerson, coming up on stage, and you knew he'd just been sticking his butt up next to a bright light someplace, getting it ready to glow. The song "Ass Sweat Makes Me Wet" was cued up, the song he had danced to with the other Royal Flush playing cards at homecoming.

It was all him now, and he dancing around on stage, stripping slowly, his body pale and his chest kind of caved in. He was wearing nothing but a g-string and argyle socks by the end, and he turned around and mooned everyone. He already had a following in the crowd, he had become so popular, especially with helping everyone else out as my Ass-istant. As soon as he just started to turn towards the crowd, the yell went wild. Guyerson! Guyerson! As his new modification was revealed. His glow in the dark tattoo à la Destiny had grown hair! The homecoming queen of clubs was ready for action now. I had given her hair some hair extensions, too, carefully weaving in the hair so it grew long and pretty on the card. And he had tied in a little red ribbon.

Then, a man wearing the school mascot, the Beaver, on his official school shirt, leapt up on stage and we just thought it was part of the act. He had a great theatrical anger and we were smiling, waiting to see what would come next. He ran up to Guyerson, who was working hard to keep the beat in spite of the intruder. I saw something sharp in Beaver guy's hands, and started pushing the folks around me, getting up close as fast as I could just in case. I could smell the guy, and it smelled serious. Moving quickly, the Beaver guy reached out for Guyerson's glow in the dark ass and what he had in his hand was obscured by the glinting, the movement, the glow-in-the-dark, the hair, the colors. But I had my suspicions, and by that time, was running full speed. He deftly hacked off half the hair of the homecoming queen on Guyerson's butt. All that work weaving hair by hair. That beautiful finale. Guyerson grabbed at his tail of hair, swinging around, but the school guy was chasing him around in circles, jabbing with scissors. It was getting dangerous, and Guyerson yelled in pain.

Then, Beaver man ran after Jesus, leaping over seats to avoid being apprehended, and he grabbed the Holy One in a lock and started trying to cut off his crown of thorny hair.

People were still smiling, thinking it was great theatre. But Guyerson and I rushed him, until he put the scissors up to Jesus's neck and said "Any false moves and I kill the King of the Jews."

The audience was looking slightly uncomfortable. "He means it!" someone yelled. We had to save the Savior.

As people would inch forward, Beaver man would dig the scissors into Jesus's neck. Jesus probably weighed about half what they guy did. It wasn't fair. "I stand up for family values," he said, "and paradin around like the Lord—and with a picture of Tammy on Guyerson's fanny just ain't raght. I was there—she was a bootiful homecoming queen, and she should git some respect. What did she ever do to you?" He spit.

"Verily," began Jesus.

"Shut up."

We were sweating. Then, Whoosh! The ape guy swung down from behind him, and grabbed the Beaver guy's scissors right out of his hand before he even knew he was there.


Beaver guy's grip lost its focus as he veered around trying to see what happened. The ape man screeetched and beat his chest in the air on his swing, and when it moved back over Beaver guy's head, the ape teased him with it. The beaver guy was turning red, as Jesus wriggled free, and stomped on his foot, while the crowd moved forward to squish up against the guy to contain him. He looked flustered. He said nothing more.

"You gotta get a life, man," said Guyerson. Finally it was his turn to say that to his old schoolmate who no doubt taunted him with all the rest back in the day. The hair that had been cut off from his butt dangled out of his pocket for a later pin-the-tail-on-the-ass session. "You heard me. Get a life."

And the crowd started rattling and whistling and circling around, doing the new Jesus stomp.

Share on Facebook
Tweet about this Piece

see other pieces by this author

Poor Mojo's Tip Jar:

The Next Fiction piece (from Issue #428):

Did You Know Her Name?
by Scott Larson

The Last few Fiction pieces (from Issues #426 thru #422):

A Change of Heart
by Wayne Scheer

South, Northsouth, Dude
by Michael McClenahan

Be A Man
by Eric Bennett

Zombies: A New Perspective
by Kevin Gaussoin

They're My Arms Now
by Lane Kareska

Fiction Archives

Contact Us

Copyright (c) 2000, 2004, David Erik Nelson, Fritz Swanson, Morgan Johnson

More Copyright Info