Murdering One Direction

Harry's Hair

With the suspense from the last chapter now dissipated, I continued. "That's right, we are going to shave his precious locks. Once he wakes up bald, he'll lose the will to go on." I laughed a maniacal laugh so evil and sexy, that the whole world began to tremble. I quickly realized what was happening and stopped before I destroyed the universe or something.

"Holy Crap! That's worse than killing his mum!"

"Dude, why can't you just say mom like a normal human being; the spelling is driving me crazy. All this mum crap can be prevented with one letter change. Nobody is impressed that you're British. Look I can say it. Mum. Mum. I'm taking away your British speaking privileges."

"But I don't want to sound like an American. You guys sound so uneducated!" He whined.

"Whoa, hold up there partner. America's number one in heart disease and diabetes. Don't hate, just deal with it."

"We should probably just hurry up and shave Harry's head before this chapter gets too long."

"Agreed."

And with that, we called a cab that happened to be right next to us and we were on our way to Harry Styles' house.

We arrived at about one in the morning. It was only like half an hour drive away, but when the taxi driver realized we didn't have any money, he dumped us in the road like unwanted children at an orphanage and took off. We walked the rest of the way there. Louis was sweating like crazy, which made sense since we had pretty much spent the past 8 hours hiking to our destination. However, I had a sneaking suspicion most of the sweat was because he was nervous about attempting such an impossible task as ours.

Harry's house was much larger and fancier than Liam's. Ten-foot pillars had been erected in front of his herb garden, leading up to his solid-gold double door entryway, complimented by a diamond studded trim. Despite the lavishness of his house, it was the landscaping  that really grabbed my attention. The grass was trimmed and maintained so perfectly, I could have sworn it was turf. Strewn across the yard was every type of flower you can imagine. Roses, lillies, lilacs, uh and others. Sorry, I don't exactly have a wide vocabulary of flowers I can list off the top of my head. I'm just gonna say they were beautiful and diverse. Anyway, this was by far the most extravagant home I had ever seen. After I had my fill of the scenery, we carefully tiptoed to Harry's bedroom window and silently entered through it as it was conveniently left open. Why does it seem like everybody in this story, except for me, lacks basic common sense?

My eyes locked with Louis'. In a hushed voice I asked, "Got the shears?"

Louis shuffled uncomfortably. "Yeah, but why did we bring sheep shears instead of regular hair clippers."

"Louis, this hair is no ordinary hair. You see, when Harry's mom was getting ready to have her child, she made a prayer to the hair gods that they would bless her child with incredibly luscious locks. Her wish was granted, but at a price. She promised that if her son reached the age of 18 years, he was to be handed over to hair gods to do their bidding. That's why he appears in so many shampoo and hair product commercials. He's bound eternally to the hair gods who have dominion over all hair-related entities on the earth. That's why we have to shave it off. Without his hair, he literally ceases to be Harry! He'll lose his identity and finish our job for us! So be warned, his hair is going to put up a fight, and the only way to tame the beast is to shear it with the legendary shears of Chuck Norris."

"Shears of Chuck Norris? I haven't heard Chuck Norris jokes since like 2012"

Uh, Louis' ignorance was really starting to get on my nerves. "This is no joke, Louis! Chuck Norris still possesses as much power now as he ever has. He gave these shears his blessings and now it's the most powerful weapon known to man."

"If they're the most powerful weapon known to man, then how did you get them?"

"Oh, I was just walking down the street with a pair of ordinary shears when I ran into Chuck Norris. I didn't have a pen on me so when I asked for an autograph, he said he'd do me one better and bless my shears. So now we've got the most sacred device in the whole universe."

"Right... You know what, just shave his head already, I'm missing out on The Bachelor right now." Does The Bachelor  even air episodes at one in the morning?

"It won't be that easy. Look, I'll show you."

I approached Harry's hair hesitantly. It was thicker and more luscious than I ever imagined, completely devouring his head like a lion's mane. I raised my blessed shears of Chuck Norris and smote it off, a couple of small chunks at a time.

That's where it all went wrong.

Harry's hair began to act independently of his body as though it had literally roared to life. It went into a frenzy of whipping Louis and I in the butt (I'm starting to sense a pattern here).

I fought valiantly (and sexily) for my life. The hair wrapped around my neck; I struggled for every breath I could cling to. I tried to loosen myself, but I only seemed to be angering the hair more.

They say when you're in a life threatening situation, your life flashes before your eyes. That was only half true in my case. As the fear of dying young suddenly became a grim and possible reality, my mind raced with the thoughts of "what could have been" in my life. Things I wish I would have done differently. Things I would change if I could go back. Luckily, my life has been pretty awesome and I really didn't have that many regrets. But still. It was a traumatizing experience, and to this day, the closest I've been to tasting death.

The world around me grew black. I knew this was it; it was now or never. Just as the bitter darkness was about to swallow me up and send me to meet my maker, I managed to free my right hand and shave like I have never shaved before.

Aghast, the hairy abomination released me from its grasp and I started to blindly hack away until at last, no hair remained. It took exactly 8 minutes and 7 seconds to shave his head; It was a lot of hair. I looked in Louis' direction. Limp, he laid in a puddle of his own gore, a river of blood flowing from his wounds. chunks of hair surrounded his frozen body. Motionless, he looked more helpless than when he was fully conscious, which is saying a lot. I raced to his aid.

"Louis," I stuttered, trying to find a pulse, "Louis don't die. If you die, then I won't get any money and then I'll have murdered One Direction for free." I couldn't take it. The thought of saving the world from One Direction without a monetary reward was too much. I expended all of my fury into one glorious strike to his face.

He woke up immediately.

He began to cough and cry at my amazing face punch, "Dude, what the gay?"

Wait, this isn't right; Louis was supposed to be dead, "I thought you were dead, man. What happened?"

Once his offended look from the punch was gone, he answered. "I got hungry and pulled out my ketchup bottle that I take with me everywhere. Then I got whipped in the butt by Harry's literally gay hair and spilled it all over my hot bod. I was in such a rage that I blacked out and I don't remember anything after that."

"Well that was anticlimactic."