Killing me softly
A thrice explored subject...
Lets hear about it!Once:
She beckons to me
With slanted eyes
And a dangerous sort of innocence about her.
I've come to believe that
It is the sort of look
That hides a deeper, more cruel intention.
Its been more than three months
Since the last time I've seen her.
And now, my time has come again.
She cleans the tools of her trade.
Coldly calculating, she measures me with a glance.
"Two or three" she asks.
As if I remember.
If I could remember THOSE sorts of things, I probably wouldn't be here.
The blade is held tightly in her grasp. She approaches.
With each blow she cuts
Again and again and again.
All I can do is wince in agony.
What good would it do to cry out?
Casually, she kills me.
She looks away, talking with the others
as she strikes my head with utter disregard.
Like she is tending to the kids while vacuuming the rug.
So casually. Like she has done this a million times before.
The blade strikes my head, wounding me with each and every blow.
As my eyes well up with tears,
I ask myself,
"Why?? What am I doing here?
Why do I keep coming back?
There has got to be another place to get my haircut nearby!"
Twice:
Ok, if you don't understand that retarded poem... Let me spell it out for you. I have this cheapo' Asian haircut joint that is right around the corner from my office. Every three months my hair gets to the point that I start to look like your typical-white-raggedy-male-who-hasn't-had-a-haircut-in-three-months-plus and right around that same time I also begin to have a temporary brain failure. "Brain failure??", you ask. Yes, let me explain. When my hair starts to get too long, I think, "Oh... I know! There is this place right here that is really convenient and they are cheap... I'll just stop on by and get my hair cut there!" Here is the thing. They give HORRIBLE hair cuts. I should know, I've received them before. Also, they have more turnover in this place than... than... (avoiding a cheesy bakery reference here)... lets just say it seems like it is the first place newly licensed hair cut types go for employment to practice on us, the unsuspecting (or in my case quickly forgetting) public. I mean, these guys and gals are just awful.
Anyhow, about nine months ago, there was a new employee. I didn't recognize her when I went in, but hey... she was available, and I need my hair cut, so I sat down in her chair and hoped for the best. Five minutes later, I was in excruciating pain as she slammed her clippers in to my head over and over again. I mean, she must have been taught that you have to dig in deep in to the scalp in order to cut the hair or something. I had a splitting headache for hours afterwards and my head felt soft like an over ripened tomato. It was HORRIBLE. I vowed to never go back. Then, three months later, ... the long hair grew back ... and the brain failure came again. I went back in and the same thing happened. Same pain... and same vow. Then today, ... long hair... and the freakin' brain failure and another visit to the evil Asian witch doctor, torturer hair cut girl.. BAH.
Thrice:
On another visit of mine, not long after the passing away of my grandfather, I went in to get my haircut and was greeted by Theresa, the owner of this fine establishment. She was grinning widely as she started getting ready. She started the typical chit chat that normally occurs while you are getting your haircut... you know, talk about business and the weather and such. I heard the whurr of the clippers as she pressed them (gently) against my head. To my surprise, I looked down in my lap and saw an unusually large chunk of hair. I quickly looked up and jerked away from her clippers. She had mistaken me for my father who at that time was getting a very very short buzz on the sides! At that point, there was no turning back... she was toembarrassedrassed, but had to continue. I wasn't TOO upset, but playfully gave her a bit of hard time.
Towards the end of the haircut, she was tiding up the back of my neck and around my ears... and then she said, "Ok, now we will just clip these eyebrows...." And before I knew it, she had trimmed my eyebrows. Remember how I mentioned that this was just after the passing away of my grandfather? Well, my grandpa had some crazy eyebrows in his latter years. And for some odd reason, I had started to grow some gnarly ones too! Its not like my whole brow was going for the grown-out-bush-look or anything, but I did sprout some individual zany hairs. My wife asked me to get rid of them, but I told her I was growing them for my grandpa... to remember him by. ... And now, Theresa, my friendly-neighborhood-Asian-haircut-establishment-owner had trimmed them right off!
It didn't bug me too much. But I had to tell her the story. Just to tease her about it, ya know?
It was so funny to see her reaction. She was so upset with herself! You know how many of the Asian cultures have a strong reverence for ancestraltoreal spirits and the like.... so she was just red as can be.
Now, every time I go in there, she and I share a good laugh about it, but she always has somebody else cut my hair. :)
Lets hear about it!Once:
She beckons to me
With slanted eyes
And a dangerous sort of innocence about her.
I've come to believe that
It is the sort of look
That hides a deeper, more cruel intention.
Its been more than three months
Since the last time I've seen her.
And now, my time has come again.
She cleans the tools of her trade.
Coldly calculating, she measures me with a glance.
"Two or three" she asks.
As if I remember.
If I could remember THOSE sorts of things, I probably wouldn't be here.
The blade is held tightly in her grasp. She approaches.
With each blow she cuts
Again and again and again.
All I can do is wince in agony.
What good would it do to cry out?
Casually, she kills me.
She looks away, talking with the others
as she strikes my head with utter disregard.
Like she is tending to the kids while vacuuming the rug.
So casually. Like she has done this a million times before.
The blade strikes my head, wounding me with each and every blow.
As my eyes well up with tears,
I ask myself,
"Why?? What am I doing here?
Why do I keep coming back?
There has got to be another place to get my haircut nearby!"
Twice:
Ok, if you don't understand that retarded poem... Let me spell it out for you. I have this cheapo' Asian haircut joint that is right around the corner from my office. Every three months my hair gets to the point that I start to look like your typical-white-raggedy-male-who-hasn't-had-a-haircut-in-three-months-plus and right around that same time I also begin to have a temporary brain failure. "Brain failure??", you ask. Yes, let me explain. When my hair starts to get too long, I think, "Oh... I know! There is this place right here that is really convenient and they are cheap... I'll just stop on by and get my hair cut there!" Here is the thing. They give HORRIBLE hair cuts. I should know, I've received them before. Also, they have more turnover in this place than... than... (avoiding a cheesy bakery reference here)... lets just say it seems like it is the first place newly licensed hair cut types go for employment to practice on us, the unsuspecting (or in my case quickly forgetting) public. I mean, these guys and gals are just awful.
Anyhow, about nine months ago, there was a new employee. I didn't recognize her when I went in, but hey... she was available, and I need my hair cut, so I sat down in her chair and hoped for the best. Five minutes later, I was in excruciating pain as she slammed her clippers in to my head over and over again. I mean, she must have been taught that you have to dig in deep in to the scalp in order to cut the hair or something. I had a splitting headache for hours afterwards and my head felt soft like an over ripened tomato. It was HORRIBLE. I vowed to never go back. Then, three months later, ... the long hair grew back ... and the brain failure came again. I went back in and the same thing happened. Same pain... and same vow. Then today, ... long hair... and the freakin' brain failure and another visit to the evil Asian witch doctor, torturer hair cut girl.. BAH.
Thrice:
On another visit of mine, not long after the passing away of my grandfather, I went in to get my haircut and was greeted by Theresa, the owner of this fine establishment. She was grinning widely as she started getting ready. She started the typical chit chat that normally occurs while you are getting your haircut... you know, talk about business and the weather and such. I heard the whurr of the clippers as she pressed them (gently) against my head. To my surprise, I looked down in my lap and saw an unusually large chunk of hair. I quickly looked up and jerked away from her clippers. She had mistaken me for my father who at that time was getting a very very short buzz on the sides! At that point, there was no turning back... she was toembarrassedrassed, but had to continue. I wasn't TOO upset, but playfully gave her a bit of hard time.
Towards the end of the haircut, she was tiding up the back of my neck and around my ears... and then she said, "Ok, now we will just clip these eyebrows...." And before I knew it, she had trimmed my eyebrows. Remember how I mentioned that this was just after the passing away of my grandfather? Well, my grandpa had some crazy eyebrows in his latter years. And for some odd reason, I had started to grow some gnarly ones too! Its not like my whole brow was going for the grown-out-bush-look or anything, but I did sprout some individual zany hairs. My wife asked me to get rid of them, but I told her I was growing them for my grandpa... to remember him by. ... And now, Theresa, my friendly-neighborhood-Asian-haircut-establishment-owner had trimmed them right off!
It didn't bug me too much. But I had to tell her the story. Just to tease her about it, ya know?
It was so funny to see her reaction. She was so upset with herself! You know how many of the Asian cultures have a strong reverence for ancestraltoreal spirits and the like.... so she was just red as can be.
Now, every time I go in there, she and I share a good laugh about it, but she always has somebody else cut my hair. :)
posted by Miroslav at 11:53 PM
1 Comments:
I liked it. But some, like Edo, didn't require the punch line like I did. But, he should know, eh?
Post a Comment
<< Home