The Colonel needs a haircut. Badly.
Even a bad haircut would do.
The Colonel's had the same hairdo since he was eighteen. Early on the Colonel paid a weekly visit to his barber for the traditional Marine "high and tight." Then the Colonel began to notice that there was less and less on top to cut "tight."
The Colonel also broke down and used a little bit of not-so advanced mathematics and discovered that at three or four dollars a weekly barber shop visit, a $20 hair clipper set would quickly pay for itself -- plus give the Colonel some regular practice in case he needed to cut hair to augment his retirement.
For the better part of the last three decades the Colonel has, each Monday morning, set his trusty clippers, Semper Clip, on the lowest setting, and reduced his meager mane to a barely visible stubble.
Sometime back in September (that's as specific as his rapidly diminishing collection of viable brain cells will allow him to remember), the Colonel missed a Monday morning meeting with Semper Clip. It wasn't necessarily intentional, mind you. He just forgot.
And, it wasn't all that noticeable a week later.
Nor the week after that.
The Colonel, being the creature of habit that he is, missed a whole month of Monday morning meetings with Semper Clip, and just that quickly began a new habit.
After about six weeks, there was enough fur around the Colonel's ears for one of his domino buddies to look up from the table, squint at him like there was a big daub of axle grease smeared across his face, and ask, "Growing your hair out, Colonel?"
"Nope. What makes you think that?"
"I dunno. Just looks like you and your barber had a fallin' out."
"Nope. Just giving my follicle's a rest."
"Looks to me most of your follicles have been resting in peace for quite some time now."
Soon, the hair was as long as it had been since just before the Colonel's dad returned from Vietnam.
The comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda held her peace for as long as she could bear it and finally, in her gentle and loving way, told him what she thought of the Colonel's new 'do.
"Hey, knucklehead! You look like a hippie gone to seed! You need to cut that mess off your melon before people start asking you how you came up with E equals MC squared!"
The rest of the Colonel's family displayed even more loving interest in his noggin' wrapping cultivation.
"Daddy, you look terrible!" The Colonel's favorite daughter always knows just what to say to warm his heart, cockles and all. "When are you gonna cut your hair?"
The Colonel flipped his locks and flippantly declared, "When Ole Miss finally wins a football game."
"But, Daddy, this season's over!"
"Yep, looks like I won't get it cut until after the Spring Game."
"But, Daddy, didn't they tie the Spring Game last year?"
Hmmm. Wonder what the Colonel would look like in dread locks?