Captain's Log: éminence grise

In one of those random, nothing-better-to-do moments the other night, my right hand wandered down to scratch my naked, flabby, just-showered-and-dried right buttock. My fingertips suddenly brushed against something wispy and immediately moved to investigate. Sensors quickly determined that we were dealing with a butt hair, but the follicle's location was unknown. My assumption was that the hair's root lay somewhere inside the Gluteal Canyon.

Inside my brain's command center, Mr. Spock proposed that we reconfigure the fingers to perform an action called tugging. This would, Spock contended, immediately reveal the whereabouts of the follicle. "Make it so," I said, and thus we began Operation Uproot. Tug led inevitably to pluck, and we discovered, much to our mingled delight and horror, that the hair had been growing out of the butt cheek's rippled, convex surface, having wandered far, far away from the rest of the ass hair crowd.

At this point Spock suggested a visual scan, so we moved the hair within range of our visual scanning system and immediately received another shock: the hair was almost three inches long and completely gray. No one on the bridge crew had any idea how such a hair could come into existence; the discovery was deemed a First Contact by Dr. McCoy, who was eager to get his hands on the hair for further study.

I simply sat back, scratching my now-tingling ass cheek absently, and pondered the hirsute mysteries of the universe that whirled before us on the viewscreens.


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