13. Feeling off colour

For some time now, Little Hairy-Harry had been feeling ill at ease. Every time a missile was fired, his immediate proximity became covered with a slimy substance that was most offensive to his sensitive nostrils. Being delicate and refined and fully occupied with the quest for the perfect trench coat for his future career, he felt sullied, both inside and out. Things simply could not carry on like this.

He longed for a favourable shower of rain, for the chance to dive into the deep blue water he had caught a glimpse of just the other day. Little Hairy-Harry comforted himself with the thought that this was probably a test for his special status as Top Secret Agent.

One morning, Little Hairy-Harry spotted something ghastly in his little mirror… a pimple on his nose. He refused to let it get him down, however. On the contrary, he felt charged up, invincible, poised for combat.

‘I will survive!’ he sang, puffing up his puny chest. 

12. Making a discovery

At intervals, Little Hairy-Harry suffered the jolting of missiles shooting from the launch pad not far from his hide-out. To his surprise, nobody else seemed to notice them. It was truly bizarre. Or, was their indifference feigned? Hmmm...

His little brain was straining with the sheer effort of thought, so much so it was just about smoking.

All of a sudden, an illumination sparked amidst his diminutive neurons. Yes, he finally got it. All was made known. In all likelihood, he was based at a military station. Yes, that was it! It all added up: the curfew, the noises, the smells, the infantile, vulgar sense of humour of his neighbours, and his memory of the great heart shape, possible a territory occupied by pacifists. Little Hairy-Harry was imbued with a tremendous sense of purpose. He, a tiny, weakling bum hair, was to become, ta-dah… a Secret Agent! 

11. Wearing a neckbrace

Little Hairy-Harry, thus immobilised and daydreaming, pondered the peculiar country he had discovered.

‘A heart-shaped mountain and another in the shape of a megalith? What on earth could it mean?’

He ached to grow up, meet people, make friends, have fun, throw a barbecue. He smiled to himself, wedged into his hidey-hole (as the neckbrace advised by his doctor took up rather a lot of space) and he dreamed up plans for his future.

‘Give us a smile, hey twatface?’            

An immense flash lit up the sky.

Little Hairy-Harry considered how very unfathomable the world about him was.

10. Getting a crick in the neck

Little Hairy-Harry jerked himself back to his original posture, because, in that other direction, the odour was becoming, frankly, quite brutal. He was almost ashamed of having complained previously.

But ‘Ow! Ow! Ow!’ he yelped.

He had pictured seamlessly straightening up his head, but hadn’t quite foreseen putting it back. Pain shot through his little neck. Now whom could he blame? His nose! That sensitive, delicate schnozz of his. Little Hairy-Harry dreamed of it becoming an asset to him one day, a passport to the marvellous world of perfumery.

While he cursed his nose, his perfect nose, he was resolute not to budge as a strategy to tide the pain. 

9. Turning around

Little Hairy-Harry couldn’t take it anymore, not knowing what was going on behind him. His hearing was marvellously acute and his sense of smell even better. It was possibly that little bit too fine. (Just between you and I, he dreamed often of catching a cold.) Yet all his eyes could offer him was the vista of a lovely, pink and gently sloping hillside, on which he, drawn to his full height, was wafting in the breeze.

Unable to wait a moment any longer, he exerted an effort, of a bravado well beyond his years, by which he managed to shift to the right.

‘Oh my heavens! But it’s so pretty…’ he crooned.

By stretching his little head such that his neck vertebrae threatened to rupture, he could see at long last, a gorgeous landscape, pink and undulating, covered with little friends (although little, still much bigger than him), and a funny heart-shaped mountain down below, and yet another, higher one behind him…

‘Ew! Eyew!’ 

8. Snoring

Little Hairy-Harry was having a dream. In it, he was gambolling gaily in a field of cabbages, free and gay as a wild horse. Other little bum hairs threw a coloured ball to him. Beaming with happiness, he tossed it back.

‘Hey, hello?’

The other little hairs smiled, throwing the ball back.

‘Hey YOU!’

His fellows were frolicking gaily and smiling amidst the cabbages.

‘YOOHOO!’

Little Hairy-Harry started awake, suddenly. Abruptly. The shock of it! It appeared he had been snoring. At least, that was what the voice behind him confirmed, in a not very kindly manner.

Little Hairy-Harry made a mental note of it, and set about planning better for his next siesta, i.e. to tape himself whilst snoozing. He might be petite with impeccable manners, but he would be neither mocked nor taken for an imbecile. Oh, no. 

7. Having a siesta

These discoveries, the noises, the tart smell (what with Little Hairy-Harry being so fussy), his cracking headache, the physical exertion and the extreme use of his brain had all exhausted him thoroughly. In dire need of rest and recuperation, he decided to take a nap.

That was all very well, but how? In what position? If you’ve got your nose to the ground, taking a rest isn’t the straightforward thing it ought to be.

So he gave it another go. He squeezed his little fists, clenched his teeth, concentrated with all his might, pushed like a lunatic, and keeping his ears pricked... pffffffttttt!

Nobody had heard a thing! Little Hairy-Harry had thus mastered the matter of ejecting himself with the utmost discretion, silently but violently. With a sigh of relief, he laid his head on the rim of his hidey-hole and fell into a blissful sleep.

6. Getting a migraine

Who could’ve imagined Little Hairy-Harry would be so very sensitive, olfactorally speaking? Oh, that would be just his luck. He knocked back an aspirin and prayed with all his might, ‘Damnation! I really hope I’m going to get used to this. Because if I don’t, crikey Moses, I’m going to be in deep trouble…’

Within a few moments, he started feeling better. More or less. Although an unpleasantly burny sensation was stirring in his stomach.

‘Hey, twatface. You have to take an aspirin with water, doncha know?’

Little Hairy-Harry thanked the voice warmly, apologising for his inability to turn around to face his conversant. He drank a large glass of water and immediately started feeling a whole lot better.

5. Trying out a new nose

Little Hairy-Harry was stuck, nose to the ground. Released from his hidey-hole, yet still stuck to the ground. One can’t have it all, right? He realised pretty swiftly that a 360-degree perspective would not be on the cards just yet. So, as a consolation, he tested his nose. He sniffed.

There was a smell. Indeed, a very tangy, quite whiffy smell. Although Little Hairy-Harry had very little in the way of scents to compare it to, for a beginner baby bum hair, this one was pretty darn bracing. 

4. Taking a stab

Little Hairy-Harry wanted to broaden his horizons. As this was proving impossible in his current circumstances, he gathered all his strength to push himself out. He squeezed his little fists, clenched his little teeth, pushed like a lunatic and, turning as red as a beetroot... poooot! A moment of silence was followed by gales of derisive laughter from those around him. He felt miserable, humiliated. A tiny victory comforted him, however, for he had acquired a nose.

3. Yearning to see something

Little Hairy-Harry was getting rather fed up with looking straight ahead. He was well aware that things were taking place around, not to mention behind him, for he could overhear conversations, laughter, and odd noises. Here and there, he got the impression that others were indeed mocking him. However, since he was fastidiously clean, baby-faced and still at that honeymoon phase in which you find everybody simply adorable, he didn’t take it to heart.