The year was 1997..
I was in the eighth grade. (This is the part where you say, “8th grade???!! I was already married and dancing to Coolio!)
I really wanted to dye my hair black for Halloween. I never dyed my hair before.
I thought about rogaine, that would have turned out really nice. Then I found this can of black hair dye spray located in the back of a CVS store. It only cost a dollar.
I sprayed the entire can on my head.
The first five minutes of that Halloween school morning was filled with everybody looking at me like I just threw the winning touchdown in the state championship, ran to the sidelines, and totally made out with the star cheerleader while her Dad congratulated me.
It was the happiest five minutes of my life. Until “it” happened.
That “it” was that one dollar can of spray. It came alive, as black dye starting running down my face.
As the day progressed, black hair dye was all over my favorite shirt, my face, my desk, my homework, and my backpack.
Gym class was the worst. We had to wear these uniforms during gym class, and the black hair dye made my white gym t-shirt totally dark. The day felt like an episode of the Wonder Years, except the narrator was laughing at me.
It was a horrible, tragic day. I immediately went home and showered. As the water hit my head, this black juice substance fell on the shower floor….it looked like motor oil…..and so did my tears.