Walking through the kitchen, I eyed the dinner Charlene was fixin’ (note, the cheap sorta rhyme there).  There was some rice with meatballs and some kind of topping, which included sesame seeds.  It looked yummy.  I continued on my way.

The family gobbled up the tasty dinner and settled in front of the television for a show.  It had been a good night.  I stretched and ran my fingers through my hair.

That’s when I noticed something out of place.  Something that didn’t feel right.  There was something in my hair.  Something small and rock-like.  Also kind of wet.  It startled me.  It disgusted me.  It made me jump into action.

I headed straight for the bathroom.  I managed to pull the intruder from my hair.  I looked.  A sesame seed.  Now, why was that up there?  I’m not in the habit of rolling my head around on my plate.  I don’t have an intimate relationship with my food.  It must have been a rebel sesame seed.  A rough.

Consider yourself warned.  Either those sesame seeds can jump or I use the strangest of hair gels.