What, you egg!

So I have been chased around by this thing for years now. It constantly reminded me of the relentless march of time, by shrinking at an alarming rate and growing a little fuzzy around the edges.

Upon reading Macbeth, I finally realized the danger of such 'shaggy hair' and vowed to do something about it:

First Murderer
He's a traitor.

Son
Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain!

First Murderer
What, you egg!
(Stabbing him)
Young fry of treachery!

Son
He has kill'd me, mother:
Run away, I pray you!
(Dies)

See what I mean. Nothing but trouble.

None the less it is a little odd. In mentioning my desires to people, the reaction is a little odd. Mostly quite negative - like I am not supposed to cut off my hair since that would mess up the box that everybody has put me in. Myself included I guess. None the less I think that it is a good thing, and feel quite a bit of relief now that it is gone.

For the record, here is the troublesome stub:

A little weird really. Like a toe in a jar of formaldehyde. I think I will name it Frank.