Today, there was a bat in the arena while we played our game. While it was a little bit of light-hearted fun for my teammates, and an unexpected moment of entertainment for the fans (provided none of them were bat-phobic), for me it was a truly miserable experience.
When I got a close look at that bat, father, it was plain to me that it was covered in hair. This blind, minuscule, winged abomination had a fuller head of hair on its little beady-eyed head than I have on mine. While I carefully care for each individual strand of hair on my head, only to have it pluck itself from my scalp anyway, this creature takes no care of its hair at all, yet the hairs on its head remain intact.
I was so overcome with jealousy and rage at this intruding animal that I attempted to kick it out of the air as it flew by me. Knowing as I do the utter injustice of the universe, I didn’t really expect the kick to connect with its target, and, indeed, I missed the mark with my attack on it.
Why, father? Why? This gypsy curse of baldness is destroying my life. When I look in the mirror, I see only a failure staring back at me. A failure who cannot even compete with a wild animal when it comes to possessing a full head of hair.
Please do not tell anyone of my secret feelings towards the bat. All who were present simply assumed I was irritated that the game had been paused. I wish them to continue to think that. I do not want them to become aware of the anguish that consumes my soul.
Your loving son,