Friday February 28th, 2014

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose which take place in a: pool hall.

The last day of February. That went quick.

Operation: Get Max a Haircut was a partial success today. He was fine right up until the first snip, at which point he started crying. The barber said something along the lines of 'Now that we've started we can't stop' and I told him to do the best he could.

So his hair is out of his eyes, at least we managed that much. I might have to give him a little trim around the ears, but the main concern has been taken care of. Even if it's not particularly even (what with all the fidgeting and fussing), I'm sure it's a whole lot better that what I would have done.


Pool cue held loosely in one hand, a half empty beer bottle gripped tightly in the other, he watched his opponent's movements closely. Something underhanded was happening here, he was sure of it. He just had to figure out how, exactly, she was cheating and then he could finally call her on it.

With a long, smooth stroke she sank her shot before flashing him a quick smile; suddenly he had forgotten, yet again, what he had been thinking about.


Greg said...

Poor Max! Still, at least he's had his haircut now, and it'll get slightly easier each time you take him. Either that or it'll get worse and worse and worse.... Have you thought about raising a hippie? ;-)
Heh, I don't know how she's cheating either, but she seems to be pretty good at it!

Pool hall
"The architect's a little deaf, isn't he?" asked Marley, looking down the length of the hundred foot hallway.
"She," said Jane absently. "Why is there a toilet every ten feet on both sides of the hall?"
"I seem to remember you said you wanted a pool hall," sighed Marley.

Marc said...

Greg - I might try bringing him to the barber in the morning next time to see if that goes any better.

Haha, that is not quite what I would have hoped for, were I in Jane's shoes.