My dear fellow, staring at yourself in the barbershop window…I know why you linger. I can hear the unspoken question you pose to your reflection in the glass. Your face reveals your torment, as it has in a thousand barbershop windows before. And yet you refuse to listen to the conclusion at which you arrive each time—the truth that has been, quite literally, staring you in the face.
You are bald. Not bald-ing. Bald. And that cotton candy swirl of shoulder-length ear hair you lacquer down to your scalp does not count, nor is it fooling anyone. It is but a sad reminder of the luxurious head of hair you once had, years ago. Before you were bald, like you are now.
Have a seat in the barber chair, Tiger. It’s time.
Ouch.
Posted by: Mr. Clean at August 23, 2005 04:28 PMWho loves ya, Baby. Keep up the good work. But go easy with the blue material, eh?
Posted by: T. Savalas at August 23, 2005 04:30 PMLet him live a little. Going bald is easy. Keeping those metal shavings in place is hard.
Posted by: Wooly Willy at August 23, 2005 04:33 PMNow who has the split personality problem, hmmmm?
Posted by: antigeist at August 23, 2005 06:22 PMyou are bald, fella. bald bald bald. you're bald as a ping pong ball. are you bald!
Posted by: anne at August 24, 2005 06:34 AM