A STORY.
When I was little, there was girl that lived down the street from me.
I watched her as she walked down the street, with her long, orange, curly hair bouncing behind her.
I got annoyed over the years, seeing those huge curls bounce with her.
I had a wish.
I wanted to sneak into her house at night, with scissors, and chop off her beautiful hair.
When she would wake up, I would hear her screams and cries as I held the remains in a plastic bag.
A couple of days later, after she sucked it all up, I would walk up to her, hold up the bag to her face and say, "Is this yours?" with a smile.
