haircut

How bad are they?

| Things are so bad, I saw a preacher who had to have his hair cut in the parking lot of Elmer's.

Réal and I went for breakfast at Elmer's this morning.

When we came out, there was a man standing between Réal's car and the one next to it, and a woman was using a pair of household scissors, the kind with the orange handles, to cut his hair. It was going to be impossible to pretend we didn't see this, so I made a harmless remark about the "parking lot barber shop."

"And you know what he is?" asked the woman, whom I presumed to be his wife. "He's a preacher."

Off and runnin'! He launched into a recap of his career, including Alaska ("you heard about that Palin?") and assorted postings in, I think, the navy. I take it he doesn't get much chance to talk on his own, and he was taking every advantage of the opportunity to bend the ear of two guys in the parking lot who couldn't leave because he was blocking access to their car.

One has to wonder: How did this little domestic tableau come about? Did he suddenly become aware of an excessively long lock of hair hanging over his collar and say, "Dear, I'm mortified to find this hank of hair"? Or did she notice the tuft of hair and say, "Goodness, gracious, you can't go in there looking like that!"?

It rather reminds me of those scene between Hyacinth Bucket — "that's 'boo-kay'" — and her poor henpecked husband, "Now Richard, you know I don't like to interfere. Now go change your tie, Richard."

Last updated on Apr 13, 2018

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