Grandy loved his comb. He walked down the street holding his comb in front of him with pride. It made him feel good having something he liked. He really wanted everyone to like him.
"What a great comb." said Grandy.
Smidge walked up.
"Hey can I borrow your comb?" said Smidge.
"Please I got a tangle."
Grandy looked up at Smidge's hair and it was full of tangles, crust, and little dots. Grandy didn't know what to do. He didn't want his prideful comb to touch all that crud and crust. But he didn't want to give Smidge a reason to dislike him. He stood there for a second with worried eyes.
"Cmon, give with the comb!"
"Comb hog!" said Smidge.
Grandy started nervously licking his lips.
"You got somethin' against me clearing out one little tangle?" said Smidge.
Grandy's eyes zoomed and focused into Smidge's scalp. Smidge had more than just one little tangle. It was a scalp jungle in there. Filled with utter madness and chaos. Grandy had to think quickly.
"My comb has sick germs on it. From me using it too much!" said Grandy. Phew that was close. No one wants germs.
"Hey brother, your germs are my germs! We are all dying and going to hell anyway, right pal?!" shouted Smidge. Grandy's eyeballs frowned.
"I ain't askin' for us to rub urethras together... yet! Ha ha ha ha. Just want to use that fine lookin' comb." Smidge continued.
Grandy's shoulders dropped and he extended his comb hand one inch, in defeat.
"Thanks Partner!" said Smidge, as he snagged the comb and started ripping it into his grimy scalp. Crud flakes flew left and right. Elastic stringies tugged at the comb, trying to absorb it into Smidge's head. The sounds of a carpet being torn in half rang around the street.
"I think I got it!" said Smidge, "say while I've got this sucker, might as use it on my ARMPIT!" he continued. Smidge reached the comb under his big loose t-shirt and started shredding his armpit with the comb. "Ahh, what a relief!" he shouted. "Say while I'm knockin' these pesky tangles out, might as well get at one that's been buggin' me IN MY UNDERWEAR!" Smidge crammed the comb into his pants and wiggled it around. "Ahhh, feels great!" Smidge yanked the comb out of his pants and extended it right back into Grandy's face. "Here ya go, buddy! See that wasn't so bad."
Grandy was catatonically sad. Smidge picked up Grandy's hand and placed the comb in.
"Hey you're a real good buddy, buddy. I like you. Gotta go, bye!