The Man had a problem with his head. He was 32; the hair on his head had thinned yet grown voraciously down his dumpy stomach, chest, and back for every year he grew older. It was as if the roots on his head were closing shop, and the excess hair was free to blissfully float down his body as time progressed.

One morning, while unclothing before a shower, the Man noticed an object protruding from his navel. It was a ball of lint, and he scrutinized it with his thumb and pointer finger before walking to the kitchen to put it in a giant Ziploc bag. The Man wasn't sure where to store his new friend, so he put the bag in his refrigerator. Bottom shelf.

Every day that he could, the Man rushed home to watch his favorite news show, Hard Copy. (He's a philomathic for Hollywood scandals.) TV anchor Barry Nolan had recently joined the news team, and the Man soon became captivated by this human. Nolan made the Man feel warm inside, like he had a real friend. (And the anchor's combover was beautiful.) In reality, the Man's closest person to a friend was his neighbor, Amanda, who had a key to his apartment and was kind enough to record Hard Copy when the Man's boss made him work overtime, which was quite often.

The days when the Man could make it home in time for Hard Copy were his favorite.

The Man rushed from work on this particular day, feet hugging the pavement and sweat pouring down his hairy back. Once he was home, throwing on his sweats and lighting up the television, he noticed the same thing down below: more lint in his belly button. He pulled it out and put it in the Ziploc bag with the first batch.

A new, flat routine added to this Man's humdrum life: collecting lint. His days: wake up, check belly button, put the lint in the bag of glob, go to work, come home, add more lint, watch Hard Copy, sleep.

The Man did this for four years.

***

In year two, the Man started coming home late to see Amanda and thank her for taping his favorite show. She was the only female in his sad 34-year lifespan that had shown some appreciation for his existence. He began to have a profound admiration for her. Was it love? He had never known what loving someone felt like. Some days when he left work early, he would walk around just to kill time so that he could see her. He had so many questions for her: Why are you so nice to me? What do you do for work? Do you have a boyfriend? Do you like rap music?

***

One Saturday afternoon, it was raining (if you must know), and the Man went to Ace Hardware to pick up super glue. He was aware that this type of glue would stick his fingers together, so he bought blue latex gloves, too.

When he got home, the Man pulled out two large Ziploc bags of lint--which by now had taken priority over pizza and Pepsi--at the top shelf of his refrigerator. He wiped down his round, lonely brown kitchen table and then proceeded to empty out the bag's contents. And he stared. For five minutes, he stared. Then he went to the bathroom and stared in the mirror at his ugly, balding head. His brain lights lit up. And then he went to work.

***

Amanda was sitting on her couch, busy rolling little baggies of a green substance and watching last night's rerun of The Wonder Years. In this episode, titled "Private Butthead," Kevin's dickhead brother enlists in the army, making his sweet ma and will-have-a-heart-attack-at-any-moment dad worry since the Vietnam War was currently in production.

She was startled when someone knocked at the door. No customers were supposed to come by that day (that she remembered). But she was currently higher than a kite and went to the door anyway.

Amanda looked out her peephole and didn't recognize the Man on the other side. Assuming it was one of her regulars, blitzed and desperately in need of a fifth of cannabis, Amanda opened the door to what awaited on the other side. She stared at the Man in pure silence. She stared at his new hairdo in absolute silence. As he began to speak, all she could do was stare. Her face read holy fucking shit across it. The Man was talking to her, confessing his love, but she couldn't hear a word.

"Hhhhi Amanda," he said. "I wanted to thank you for all your help with getting me hard copies of Hard Copy. Heh...get it? I also wanted to ask you a question. I'm not very good at this stuff, but here it goes: Would you like to go out some—"

The Man's words passed through her ear canals, but it was all garbled—she was too transfixed by his hair. His hair was hard to explain to any soul on earth unless they watched MTV and saw a music video of the super famous rapper, Coolio. The Man had rolled up several mangled braids and dyed them brown to match what hair he had left and then superglued them to his bald spots. He thought this new fad was going to be life-changing. Coolio was, after all, cool.

Before the Man could finish his confession, Amanda fainted. He caught her in his arms and thought she was literally falling for him like in those old movies from the 60s.

He smiled, ready to take on the world.