The exercise:
I think today we shall write about: the barber.
Because I got my Honeymoon Hair Cut today (it's pretty much all Honeymoon, all the time in my thoughts these days). It was fine for the winter here, but I had way too much hair on my head for a tropical location.
Plus I want to look good in all those pictures that are sure to be taken.
Mine:
Bobby took one look at the monster with scissors for hands and tried to make a break for it.
"Don't be silly," his mother said, calmly grabbing him by the collar and dragging him back into the barber shop. "Mr. Wilkes isn't going to hurt you - he's going to make you handsome!"
"How? By cutting off my ears?"
"No, of course not, my boy," Mr. Wilkes said with a soft laugh that sounded like the maniacal cackle of a supervillain to Bobby. "I'm just going to lower them a little."
Bobby made another break for it and this time he managed to escape to the sidewalk and halfway down the block before his mother was able to catch him. After bringing him screaming and kicking back to the barber - all the while assuring passers-by that he was in fact her son and that he was in fact perfectly fine - she only had two requests for him.
4 comments:
Hah, I like the idea of a Honeymoon Hair Cut, though surely if you're going to Jamaica you should have kept the hair and had it dreadlocked while you're over there? ;-)
I have to keep careful track of my training schedule, as for the week after my usual-length haircut I look a little... intimidating, I'm told.
Poor Bobby, though I keep picturing Andy Wilkes as Edward Scissorhands, so maybe Bobby has a point....
The barber
There was a tap at the door, and Mrs. Catoblepas opened it. She was smiling broadly, her smile almost as wide as her waist, and was holding a large bunch of Dogwoods. She thrust them forwards, and then paused. She peered forwards, and looked round non-existant corners, pantomiming expecting more people.
"Were you expecting someone else?" said Mr. Quartet, trying to avoid the Dogwoods.
"I was expecting four of you!"
"Four of us? How many haircuts are you after?"
"Haircuts?"
Slowly and simultaneously it dawned on them both what the problem was.
"You wanted a--" said Mr. Quartet,
"Barbershop quartet!" finished Mrs. Catoblepas. "Can you sing?"
Marc - I'm sure you're gonna surprise us with many pics of your upcoming trip two weeks later :D
Haha, your piece today made me laugh out loud. I find it particularly funny when Bobby said "How? By cutting off my ears?" Great twist there in the paragraph :)
Greg - haha, that was funny! Nice drama there :)
Dumbricht - thanks for your comments earlier on :)
---
Here's mine,
The barber
"Hey, great to see you again! It has been awhile. How are you getting on?"
"I'm great, smooth sailing. My new barber shop is hiring, I wonder if you're interested to join me as a shareholder?"
"Me? You must be kidding. I think it's better for you to hire someone else."
The reason? "Cuz I'm just a barber."
From yesterday @summerfield - your haikus, you say are cliche, but still very powerful messages.
For today - I like that Marc, Greg, and Zhongming all tell humorous stories - I guess, the barber is an inherently traumatic experience. There is a difference between going to the old Italian barber and the nice hip hairstylist (cost is one of those differences). Great job all three.
Here's my take:
The Barber lay hidden beneath the palm fronds, watching the couple walk along the water. Every few steps, the woman, believing they were alone, would steal a kiss. The Barber paid no attention to them, he knew the sunset would bring the lovers out, and he hoped this would be the only set to visit. The Barber shifted his muscles, attempting to stretch the kink in his left hamstring. Six hours of lying in wait made him feel tight, but he had been in this situation before, and probably would be again. Sometimes you just need to wait.
The sun inched closer to the horizon. Only forty five minutes to darkness, and then, hopefully a signal. The Barber reached into his pocket, and felt the useless piece of paper. It held the message that put him in this position, three words:
CLIP THE BEARD
The Beard had not been clipped. He was not even in the location that was described. This did not bother The Barber, he knew it was damn near impossible to get close to The Beard. Many had tried before, including The Barber, himself. The Barber fished in his pockets and found what he was looking for, his last piece of Juicy Fruit.
The sun set. The Barber looked to the water. In the distance he saw it: a white light, then a red light. One hundred yards to the surf, then a five hundred yard swim. That was a lot of effort for a botched mission. The Barber would have to wait until the next signal, the one that was white and green.
Another couple strolled onto the beach. How did The Barber miss them? They held a torch in their hand and a bottle of wine. They sat on the beach, directly in front of The Barber. There would be no green light while the torch was lit. He knew that the boat would only wait five minutes, and if it left, the consequences were not something he wished to consider.
The Barber sprung lightly to his feet, discarding the palms, shrouded in darkness. He began his hundred yard dash, moving closer to the couple and the water. He raised his left hand and pointed it at the two figures seated in the sand. One. Two. A kick of his leg extinguished the torch. He maintained his sprint. White light, green light. He hit the water and began his moonlight swim.
Greg - you joke, but I was seriously considering it. Thankfully common sense won out.
That is one confusing mix-up that is not likely to end well. Unless he can sing :P
Zhongming - I like what you did with the prompt :)
Dumbricht - some days it seems like my writing sets the tone for everyone else. For some reason, whenever those days come around, it never fails to surprise me.
That is a very intriguing tale you've weaved. Any chance you'll be continuing it?
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