I went to get my hair cut yesterday.
I walked up to the barbershop, after driving across town, and saw an oldish man cutting the hair of another oldish man. Both had gray hair and were probably drafted into a war. I think Korea. I don't think either one was old enough to have been drafted for WWII.
Anyway, I opened the door and said, "Hi." and sat down on a chair.
"What's up?" asked the guy doing the cutting, giving me this nasty look.
"Um," I said, "can I just walk in, or do I need an appointment?"
"I don't cut long hair," said the guy.
"What?" I asked.
"I don't do long hair."
"Really?"
"I pretty much only do regular haircuts here," he said, showing the clippers to me.
"That's all I want," I said. "A regular haircut. Short. It's just gotten a little shaggy."
"Still," he said, "I don't cut long hair. You'll have to leave."
I left.
6 comments:
Ok, Cowtown? Sorta seems like the American equivalent of Hellhole. Choochoo could move there and feel right at home.
Actually, Jazz, I don't live in Cowtown. Cowtown is where I grew up and where my parents live. And I've never had trouble getting my "long" hair cut there. There are, however, some similarities between the two, in that out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere sort of way.
He doesn't cut long hair? I saw your hair last weekend and boy, if that is long hair, what the heck do you call Robby's and Andrew's and their friends' hair?!
Shaggy, yes. Long? I don't think so! You hippy, you!
The Mooooooo, Unless my hair grew three or four inches over the past week. What kind of food can do that?
Hmm, I hear that drinking coffee puts hair on your chest and that masturbating puts hair on you palm, but I think people are still looking for something that will put hair on your head.
Hmm, what if you dip your **** in coffee and then rub it on your head?
Tee-hee.
And ouch.
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