I heard a voice beside me say, “Is that my hair extension on your crotch?” I gave her a quick glance and replied, “I doubt it. It doesn’t even match your doo.” She then replied, “No, seriously, I know it has to be mine. I drop those things all the time. Damn!” As I stood there with a look of what I’m sure was a look riddled with confusion, horror, and disgust, I wondered how many of “those things” she owns. Just then she discovered the location of her missing man-made mane and reached out and snatched Crotch Pony right off of me. Oh no she didn’t! The crowd around me was frozen.
Immediately we knew it had to belong to her. It was a perfect match. How could we have missed her in our quest for clarity of ownership? I was about to ask why the hell she had so many hair extensions in the first place when she announced to me, and the rest of the crowd, that she has lupus and as a result her thin hair requires extensions to make her hair look full. Again, crowd frozen, my mouth was agape. How could I have placed this poor woman’s lupus lock on my crotch for the sake of a good laugh only to have her rip it from my loins and snap it back in place on her skull?
Not knowing what to say I simply said, “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.” And with that, she walked back to the bar wearing Crotch Pony and I was left standing there staring at her proudly wearing the accessory much the same as she wore her dark framed glasses making small talk over expensive drinks. The group and I agreed to make a quick departure to another location and remained silent until out of earshot. When the elevator door closed we could contain it no longer and screamed laughing at the absurdity of what had just happened. Crotch Pony was gone, but the Crotch Pony Caper will live on in our minds forever.
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