C.R. Terror

Mobility Forum, Jul/Aug 2001

Okay, Major. You can open your eyes now. My masterpiece is complete." The rumpled owner of the establishment, Gene "Buss Job" Skalpem, handed the Portly Patron a hand mirror and stepped back to watch the reaction.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the Trembling Titan raised his eyes to the large mirror in front of him. Suddenly, and to everyone's surprise, he launched himself out of the chair. "Whoopee! I can't believe it. Why didn't I think of this sooner? Is it really me?"

"Yep, it's really you, C.R.," interjected the delighted barber, founder and solo stylist of Jolly Gene's Clip Job, Hair Restoration and Rug Shop. "What do you think, Francette?"

Cracking her double fruit gum and peering through her oversized glasses, the curly-haired manicurist did a perfect double take. "Wow, C.R.! You look 20 years younger. Far out!" She resumed filing her already razor-sharp fingernails as C.R. Terror, once again the Hirsute Honcho, beamed.

"Gene, m'lad, I just don't know how to thank you. Why this rug... er, hairpiece looks as real as my very own hair. You even got it to swirl just like my hair used to-when I had some, this is." C.R. ran his fingers gingerly through his curls. "Tassels just won't believe it."

Actually, Tassels screamed! Partly out of surprise and partly out of a strong desire not to laugh in the face of the Bewigged Buffoon. Quickly recovering, though, she stared at C.R. and his curly locks. "Looks real good, C.R.," she finally stammered. "Sorry I screamed, but you just surprised me. Why didn't you warn me you were going to stop washing all that forehead and start combing it?" Tassels stuck out a shapely hand and gave C.R.'s hairpiece a tentative pat. Both jumped, however, when the hairpiece neatly rotated about 30 degrees to the left.

"I told ol' Gene that he needed more glue," C.R. blustered as he reached into his jacket pocket and extracted a tube of ACME Combination Hairpiece Glue and Gasket Cement. "I'll be back as soon as I get this beautiful head of hair properly restrained," he cheerfully informed Tassels as he rushed into her powder room, glue in hand.

Alone at last, Tassels covered her face with a soft pillow and laughed until she cried. How could she tell the Legendary Lothario that his hairpiece was at least two shades darker than his meager natural hair and that it looked like a leftover from a kid's Halloween costume?

It was at exactly 0500 the next day that C.R. vaulted out of bed and began dressing in preparation for his CT-39 mission later that morning. Showered and shaved, he gently lifted his beloved hairpiece from its styrofoam support and prepared to once again cover his oversized bald spot. Liberally applying the hairpiece glue to his head, he squirted on a large dose of super glue, just to make sure the hairpiece stayed put. Minutes later, he finished combing his hair for the fourth time, and stepped back to admire himself. "Boy, that ought to impress the boys on the lieutenant colonels' board," he muttered. "Makes me look so young I should be below-the-zone material."

Noting the time, he quickly donned his new blue flight coveralls and headed to his trusty green Jag for the trip to the base. "Told Sammy I'd meet him at base ops at 0730, so I'd better hurry," he said, conversing with himself. "I'll bet he won't even recognize me."

"Morning Boss," Sammy managed to croak before he turned away from the Furtopped Flyboy in a futile attempt to regain his composure. "Er.. ad... I got the flight plan all done and filed us for a 0930 takeoff... if that's OK with you...ah Boss?" The Competent Copilot literally tossed the flight plan at the Befuddled Major and dashed off to the latrine. Soon the unmistakable sounds of uproarious laughter echoed throughout the building.

Ignoring the strange antics of his second-incommand, the Perplexed Pilot signed the flight plan and handed it to the red-faced base ops dispatcher. As he pocketed his copy, the Moody Major turned back to the quivering civilian behind the desk. "Why is everybody acting so strange this morning? You'd think I'd forgotten my pants." Feigning a severe coughing spell, the dispatcher turned away from the Agitated Aviator and gave a universally understood shrug of his shoulders. He was unable to talk.

"Bus is here, Boss," Sammy called across the room. "I've already got our bags loaded."

"Right you are there, copilot," the Sultan of SAAMs exclaimed as he headed for the bus. "Let's get a move on. We gotta be ready when our DV-3s arrive."

Soon the dynamic duo were busily at work readying their shiny Sabreliner for flight. Much to Sammy's disappointment though, C.R. kept his flight cap firmly pulled down over his hair, frustrating the younger pilot's curiosity. Finally Sam could stand it no longer.

"Uh, Boss, I couldn't help but noticing. Is that... uh, a hairpiece you're wearing? I mean it looks real natural."

C.R. beamed with pride. "Glad you noticed, Sammy m'lad. It's the latest in tonsorial topwear from Jolly Gene's. He guarantees it for 15 years."

Nervously, Sammy continued. "Not to be a spoilsport Boss, but don't Air Force regs mention something about not wearing wigs or hairpieces during flight?" The faithful copilot was obviously concerned.