Mohawk or Faux Hawk?

I find myself pretty interested in what other people think of me even though what they think is none of my business,technically. You might say it's one of my many, many obsessions. I'm not sure why I think anyone else would be thinking about me considering how rare it is for me to think about anyone else. I have the market cornered when it comes to thinking about myself. I'm not sure that there is any room in the space-time continuum for any additional thinking about me.

A few years ago I followed up some yard work with a soak in my tub , usually a help to ease the strain of an aching back. I idly ran my hands through my wet hair when I was done, contemplating my visage in the mirror. I probably flexed my meager biceps a couple of times, making sure SuperK wasn't around because frankly I can't take too much more of her laughing when I flex my biceps. I guess I could quit flexing my biceps, come to think about it, but I prefer skulking around behind people's backs, doing weird and embarrassing things and pretending that they're normal.

I found that I could get my hair to stand straight up, as if a tiny little terrorist had detonated a tiny little bomb on my scalp. I found the result ridiculous yet visually arresting, and quite amusing. I grabbed a bottle of some no doubt expensive spray -- again, on the sly, because the stuff is probably 50 cents a squirt -- and discovered that it was possible to kind of cement my hair in the Up position. I decided to call it the Explosion Cut.

"Oh, jeez," SuperK muttered. "What the hell's this?"

"I'm not sure yet," I said.

"Are you going out in public like that?" she asked.

"I haven't decided yet," I replied. "Probably, at some point."

"Give me a heads up on that, will you?" she said.

"You'll be the first to know, trust me."

The general public has been very polite, which perplexes me somewhat. Once I hair-sprayed the explosion into kind of a Mohawk, or a Faux Hawk, according to Serenity Stan, and didn't hear a peep. That look even made me a little nervous. The first time a buddy saw the doo he bent over double, laughing, which was the reaction I expected. Farmer Bill tells me I'm just trying to get some attention, to which I reply: "Duh."

Part of it, I hope, is that I'm trying not to take myself so seriously. I'm the same guy, Faux Hawk or not.