By Part Tyme Fool Mick Cohen-Carroll

Dearest Forbidden Diary of Scribbles and Letters, 

All my lyfe I hath been a good follower, aye? Rules art most wondrous! As a childe, I tended to the field to helppe my parents with the crops. Anon, throughout the full five years of education, I wast an exemplary student. Ergo, whence I became a monk, I conformed to what was expected of me: I gaveth my hair to the Church. 

It was hard, as I was always moste proud of my head pelt, but I needed to prove devotion to mine monaſtery. So I shavedst the center of my beauteous hair and clearèd my scalp of ye Devil. My coronal tonsure was a moste hideous sight, but mayhaps a physical reminder of Jeſus’ own thorny crown, which, I might adde, was atop a head of majestic hair.

Methought shaving heads was always a bit extreme but I, against mine better judgment, followed ye ritual.

Lyfe continueth and I was a moste devoted monk, making my early morning lauds and being a humble servant for years, even cleaning the room wherein ye cut hair was kept.

In that repetitive cycle, I turned mine own self towards literature beyond just the usual Gregorian chants and the Bible, and readeth many books. That was mine solace. Until one day, I came upon a fable namèd Ræpünzel and felt a simple fool! I was a wind-sucker for her long luscious locks and envy consumed me. O! How I missed mine own head of hair!

Alas, nay was my baldness longer worth mine atonement. I hath given up so much: chastity, liberty and my most prized possession of all, mine own head pelt! To be mine own true self I knew I needed to leave thy monaſtery and claim what was rightfully mine.

For what God shall allow his followers the misfortune of walking about hairless? Wherefore wouldst an almighty power decreeeth so, when we are already madeth perfect in His image? 

And so I spoketh to the monaſtery and shared in protest my feelings. 

Thou canst imagine my perturbatio whence I felt pitchkettled by the Church’s angered response. They acted from a place of contumelious arrogance, of righteous indignation, of keeper of hairs. 

Now I know they doth paltered me whence I madest my solemn monaſtic vows and I felt moste betrayed. 

Mine liberation from the clergy lyfe is mine ultimate freedom, but is it worth it? I decidedly canst leave the monaſtery with a bare scalppe. The Kingdom nere is ready for a haircut akin to mine coming from a non-monk, and will chide me for mine appearance.

What shall I do, forbidden diary? I humbly ask thee for thy magical wisdom and extend gramercy for thy counsel.

P.s. Ist hair stealing a sin?

Mick ist a scribe of ye magick TV with original pilots as well as sitcom specs, and ist an alumnus of The Second City and the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Thou can find his writing on The Weekly Humorist, Medium, Buzzfeed, Points in Case, Little Old Lady Comedy and mo’e at mickcohen-carroll.com.

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