barber shop-talk

yesterday i thought i'd get myself a trim so i walk into this hair dressing salon(sounds so much better than barber shop).
'slope at the back not round and cut the sides short and dont touch the front coz ..it ahem....has trouble growing.'

i like salons. it allows me to stare at myself unabashedly in public without feeling that everybody thinks that i'm self-obsessed and insane. so i sit and stare.my eyes begin to close. it happens everytime im overwhelmed by anything sensual.

i open them to find that mr. salon scissor happy man has decided to give me a haircut of his choice. im mortified cause my hair is a scarce resource and needs no messing around with. i tell him to make a few changes to which he doesnt take too lightly and looks unhappy that the master hairsmith has been disturbed at work.

massage sir? he then asks...yeah....i say....but go easy on the hair in front it rather delicate and might just present itself in your hand if you start yanking it too hard.

he starts with warm oil..hmmmmm....hes not so bad after all mr. massage therapy man. gentle sleep....
why is he hitting me now? ow ow whoa that hurts.....he pretends that its part of the massage.... all the blows he's raining on me....
whack whack whack...

bend your head he says....am i sucker for pain...a closet sado-masochist.
or am i too chicken to ask to him to go easy on the kneading and the blows and be looked at as a half-man.

i finally stop him when he reaches out for my neck to break it.
he looked terribly distraught that i'd halted what was the final act to this pain play.
then what i do? i smile,pay him and walk off.
ouch...
never tell someone who has scissors and a blade to your head what to do.
never.