As above.
I got my haircut by a junkie. I strolled down in the sun to the barbers on Saturday with my hair in much need of a cutting. I'm a scab so I always wash my hair before I go get it cut and by the time I got there it dried into a massive puffy afro
Yeah, from now on I'm including quick little sketches in my posts. Got in and the place was packed with the young males who get their cut every week, who are surprisingly not all fags, just like to keep it tidy and styled. I'm the opposite, not the fag bit. I let it go for months and months. After flicking through the tabloids they have on the table I was called. She was the only
female in the place, each of the eight chairs was manned by a man except this one. It was early Saturday morning so I was not alotogether shocked to see her in what I'd call pyjamas but still
thought it weird. I instantly could tell she was either dying from a hangover or whacked out of it on something. She gets spraying my hair and she done a bad job of it, should have figured that if she couldn't handle the spraying water part the chances were that this was going to end in tears.
She starts snipping, I make it clear that I'm not talking with my well practiced vacant stare. All of a sudden she freezes as if she's listening to something important on the telly but it wasn't the telly, they have it tuned constantly to some shit like 'Mens and Motors' the televisular equivalent of the tabloids on the table. Complete pap for complete saps. It continues and she jams a scissor tip into my head and I wince and she tuts to herself. She redeems hereslf with a burst of rapid cutting and it all appeared to be going swimmingly well. But with my fringe clamped between her fingers she sways backwards and I'm thinking she's going to pass out.
God bless my volumous locks because she manages to keep balance by clinging fast to my fringe.
When she holds up the mirror for me see the back of my head I sigh with relief. The ordeal was over. I paid and left. On the walk home, I'm stopping to look in shop windows trying to suss out if my new do is passable and thinking about what just happened. Can anybody just walk into a hairdressers and rent the chair off the shop and then keep what they earn? Loads of scenarios
popped up as to why a drugged person would be allowed to operate, they surely weren't understaffed that day. I got around to thinking how maybe she owned the place and then I had a flashback to when I was around 14 in the same place and had another crazy experience with a
blond hairdresser.
She was cutting away and all of a sudden she turns to her work mate on the the other chair, clutching her jacket thing cloded she sez:
And indeed she did, there was nothing on under her jacket thing and I saw a glimpse of the tit, not the nipple but an apple sized segment. I saw enough to get a few weeks out of it. I heard from a friend how he was once mad about a female hairdresser and went in to get his haircut every few days to see her . I thought it was funny, not because it was endearing in a Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan kind of way but because I would have presumed that she thought he must be gay to get his haircut so often thus scuppering all hopes with her.
Was the 'no bra' incident a ruse to get a young pervert like myself hooked on the heady mix of Brylcreem and striptease? Give me a glimpse so that i'd come back next week and tell all my pals to go there. I reckon it was the same girl alright, the bra girl and the junkie girl. Maybe she bought the place from all the cash she made from the ruse. Maybe that's why she was in her pj's and out of her mallet, her place - her rules.
But back to the no bra thing, I've always wondered if I could take a sly one off the wrist when they put the cape over you. I reckon it happens all the time. Ever wonder why sometimes she gives you a tissue when the haircut is over?
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