Bob, God of Hair (Story #4)


 

Hair is a very old thing.  It’s been with people for a long time, and like a lot of things that are old and that have been with us for a while, it was originally a gift from the Gods.  Not everyone knows this, which is why I’m telling you.  Actually, it’s more accurate to say that hair comes from one very sensitive God in particular, which is why very sensitive people are the hairiest—something else a lot of people don’t know.

He’s been called a lot of names in the past.  The Squishster, Lord Squishymore, Wimpolulous, but these were family nicknames.  His real name basically translates to Bob.  So Bob is what we’ll call him here.

From the start, I should say that Bob didn’t have magical powers like the rest of his family.  He couldn’t toss thunderbolts like his dad or control the ocean like his uncle.  Still, he was powerful.  As soon as we—and by “we” I mean human beings, mere mortals, us—came onto the scene, Bob was always looking out for us.  While his cousin, Mars, was getting people riled up to war with each other, and his Uncle was out on the seas convincing one captain to attack another captain’s boat, Bob was trying to calm people down, or he was advising sailors how to avoid other sailors who might be under the influence of certain mean Gods.  If you think this isn’t very cool or that it has nothing to do with you, then think about this: you remember that time in the third grade when Gregg the bully stopped picking on you and actually started looking out for you on the playground, well that was Bob working behind the scenes, so be thankful.

If you’re still unconvinced, you’re not the only one.  Even before we came along, Bob was getting flack.  In fact, we came about because Bob was so unpopular with his family.  I mean, some of his cousins hated him—not just regular hate, either.  But hard-core, in-your-face, God-hate.  We weren’t around back then, but the dinosaurs were, and after one God-gathering when all the cousins ganged up on poor Bob, he cried for a good 1000 years, which to a God isn’t very much.  But to the dinosaurs, all those Bob-tears falling down on them for 1000 years was too much, and eventually, they died.

That proved to be pretty cool for us.  It was cool for us because if it wasn’t for all that Bob-rain and the end of the dinosaurs, we wouldn’t have come to be.  Another thing most people don’t know: we’re made up of like 95% water, which in reality is Bob-tears, and 5% dinosaur meat.

Anyway, back in the clouds, Bob’s family was none too pleased by what was happening here on Earth.  They all liked watching the dinosaurs fight, and they didn’t have much use for a bunch of walking dinosaur-Bob-tear cocktails, which is what they thought of us.  As a result, Bob was even less popular around the Gods than before.  I mean unpopular like you’ve never known.  Friendless, totally rejected by everyone, no doubt about it, a total social zero.

“Why don’t you go live with your little wimpy-dolls?” his father boomed.

“Yeah.  They’re made out of water, but they can’t even stay in the water for very long without becoming wrinkly like a pickle,” cried his uncle.

Bob’s cousins were no better.  They laughed at him and called him names.  Eventually, they started doing terrible things to us humans, too, as a way of getting back at him.  They were especially into sending down bad weather.  They split the Earth up among themselves.  One cousin would make one part of the Earth really hot and then watch as we fled somewhere cooler, but then another cousin would make that other location too cold.  Lots of people suffered, and Bob felt responsible.  He didn’t cry this time, though.  Instead, he decided that we needed some kind of protection from the elements.  So he plucked one hair from his head for each person who lived, and while they slept one night, he inserted that hair in each of them.

The hair was smart, of course, and sensitive, like I already said.  For people in hotter areas, the hair would grow thick on their heads in order to absorb their sweat, and for those in colder parts, their hair would grow on their bodies like fur to protect them from frostbite.   The other Gods didn’t like it, but they couldn’t do much against Bob’s gift.  Hair is sensitive, but it is strong, too.

Anyway, after a while, Bob’s family learned to accept us, though they never learned to accept him again.  That’s why Bob lives down here among us.  Truth be told, he doesn’t get a lot of love from us, either.  Some people call him Sasquatch, others the Boogie Man.  It’s good for us that Bob doesn’t seem to mind.  From what I’ve been told, he’s just happy he has a hairdo named after him.

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Categories: fiction

Author:the circular runner

g. martinez cabrera currently lives in San Francisco with his lovely and talented wife. He holds degrees from Columbia and from the Harvard Divinity School where he spent three years thinking about lofty things. Since then, he tries to write some lofty and some not-so-lofty things down so others can see how lofty he sometimes is. When he’s not writing or spending time with said wife, he tortures young people with learning. He blogs at www.circularrunning.wordpress.com and Tumbls at www.circularrunning.tumblr.com

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