There's a guy been awake since the second world war

"You're hurting yourself," Joel took the comb away from me and started to fix the mess I'd made. "Do you remember when we were kids, and you used to get grounded all the time for refusing to let your mother comb your hair?"
"I remember you getting me grounded for a lot more than that. What about it?"
"You used to hide under the bed rather than let her do it."
"I only stopped when I gave myself concussion by banging my head against the bottom of the bed." I looked at him in the mirror, and he smiled at me for a second.

"But you have a choice," he said, still combing my hair gently, "I guess you can either hide under the bed, or work through the knots."