Bare Bear

Plotsky sat down at the summit of the dense, but radiant ivory foothills that scatter the suburbs of Berkeley.

He thought limply to himself, "I'm handsome, strapping, intelligent, creative and motivated. Why am I sitting alone at the summit of the dense, but radiant ivory foothills that scatter the suburbs of Berkeley?"

Then it occurred to him.

"I need a hair transplant! That, along with strategically sucked breath mints, will solve every problem I have!"

You see, Plotsky was not a religious man, but when it came to male pattern baldness, he prayed to every conceivable deity; Jesus, Adonai, Ganesh, George Hamilton: "Please, your most merciful lordship, bless me with the blessing of blessed hair".

He didn't believe in God; but when it came to praying for a solution to baldness, he was a Hairsidic Jew.

Plotsky had tried everything; Rogaine, Propecia, jerking off while strangling himself, but nothing seemed to work.

Worse, his hair seemed to be migrating south; until recently, he was unaware that cheek hair was a distinct probability. Never mind leg hair, inner-ass hair was where it was at!

Why, prey-tell, he wondered, couldn't the ass hair just grow on his head? He thought briefly of cutting off his butt cheeks and gluing them on his scalp, but stopped when he realized there were no fedoras that were "ass head sized", which was also an unrelated problem for Zac Efron.

So, all that was left was the hair transplant, yeah, that would make things much easier and better and more delicious for him.

It was when he raised himself up off those lovely ivory foothills and picked up his cell phone to call the "Bosley Medical Center", when he saw the bear.

This was a bear like Plotsky had never seen before. A rare bear, one might say.

For this bear had male pattern baldness.

Plotsky was taken aback, then he was taken a back. He dropped the back he was handed and walked over to the bear.

"Excuse me", he whispered in his whisper-like whisper voice. "Can you speak English?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I can! It's your lucky day, for I am the only bear in existence that can speak and understand English. I also have a degree in communications from Ithaca college".

"I'm more impressed with your ability to speak".

"Yeah, I should really stop bringing up the fact that I went to Ithaca, no one is ever impressed; anyway, I wanted to ask you about your hair, or lack thereof. Does it bother you?"

"You know it used to; I felt like I was losing respect in the animal kingdom; deer fawns stopped running away in horror, other bears made fun of me, like: 'hey, it's too bad you can't paws your baldness' and 'that transient you just ate had more hair stuffed in his bindle then you do on your head'. I guess you could say I couldn't 'bear' losing my hair".

"Then what happened?"

"Well, I realized that I was a freak of nature; I might look like the Steinfield: The Hairiest Jew In Astoria, Queens; but you know what? I'm happy I'm not like the other bears. Sure they have hair, but maybe it's nice to stick out once in a while, be a unique sort-of bear! There's nothing wrong with being a bare bear."

Emotions flooded Plotsky's heart; maybe this bear was right; maybe he was taking this too seriously. It's time to buck up, set myself straight and be OK! with losing my hair.

That's when the bear spoke up: "Of course, this is a completely irrelevant comparison to a human".

"What?"

"Yeah, because you've got a ton of bald dudes. You aren't unique like me. If I was human and bald, I'd be ashamed, probably cry alone into a mirror every night and slowly cut my wrists in order to remember what it was like when I still had the ability to feel pain".

That's when Plotsky came up with a solution to all of his problems.

He took out a shotgun and killed the bear. He wore his "bear-skin" wig for the rest of his life, which, sadly, ended three days later after he killed himself when his manager told him his "30 Rock" Spec script didn't cut muster.