“Good morning. Barbershop here! Are you looking for Tiki or Ronde?”
Your barbers are named Tiki and Ronde?
“It is one doozy of a co-in-kee-dink!”
I don’t have a preference. I need a haircut from whoever can take me first.
“That would be Shaky Pete!”
Except if it’s Shaky Pete.
“Oh, please let Shaky Pete cut your hair. His self-esteem is so poor, and partially responsible for his quivering. There is also extensive nerve damage from all the Dust-Off he likes to huff. Have you tried it?”
Tried what?
“Dust-Off. It makes the universe go WOBBLEWOBBLEWOBBLE. It is a drug you want to stay in the saddle for! Do not let the Dust-Off take control! It is an unworthy captain!”
Shaky Pete cannot administer my haircut.
“I will mark you down as ‘bigoted.’ I can fit you in with Tiki for noon.”
Great.
“We are taking so very many precautions due to the bonus maronus!”
Good. Such as?
“You will be deloused.”
Why?
“TikTok demands content!”
Absolutely not.
“Fine. We do offer Silkwood showers.”
I don’t want one of those, either.
“There will be no rioting up in here!”
Wasn’t planning on it.
“No one plans to riot, and then you are surrounded by piles and piles of dead Panera employees. It just happens!”
There will be no rioting.
“And you will not be talking about anyone mattering in here! The only thing that matters to us is hair! Also, this is Florida, so many of our patrons are racist as hell and would not take well to your sloganeering.”
No sloganeering.
“Due to the ronus, you will be required to supply your own magazines.”
Okay.
“Do not be bringing various pornographies up in here!”
I wasn’t.
“Not even to flip through casually! That so often leads to sinful manipulations!”
I promise I won’t bring pornographic magazines. I wouldn’t even know where to buy one anymore.
“Shaky Pete has boxes and boxes full!”
Don’t care.
“We will need you to wear a mask, facially.”
I can do that.
“We will also need you wear corduroy trousers.”
Why?
“Fetish purposes!”
No.
“Mr. on the Dead–”
How did you know my name?
“–how much hair are we talking about cutting? Are you a Khruschev or a Stalin?”
Closer to a Stalin, I guess.
“And how shaggy are you? Rate your shagginess! For example, if provided with a van and magical dog, could you solve mysteries?”
I am actually that shaggy, yes. I haven’t gotten a haircut since quarantine started.
“Would you like to donate your hair to Locks of Love? They create wigs for sick children.”
If it’s possible, sure.
“What about Locks of Loath? They make merkins for surly, underage hookers. Those children are feral!”
No, thank you.
“They are as sad as they are dangerous!”
Got it.
“Society has failed them in every way! And now they have knives!”
I don’t want anything to do with underage hookers.
“Oh, you should not turn your back on them. Really. Don’t ever turn your back on them. Best case scenario is that your wallet gets stolen. Best case!”
Can I just get a haircut, please?
“Not until noon! And your lack of corduroy may preclude the activity!”
I’ll take my chances. See you then.
This is why I’m going to stick with shaggy for a little longer. Not that I’m in Florida!
I got my hair did yesterday too, for the first time in 4+ months. I must admit, it feels quite nice to be properly shorn again.
My dude started in telling me about the “research” he had been doing during quarantine about Bill Gates and the vaccine. You’ve never seen a subject changed so fast. I damn near jangled my car keys in front of his face.
My dude spent the whole time bemoaning the rioting and property damage we’ve had here over the past week, and which was being covered on the barbershop TV when I was there. Most of the worst activity is right in my neighborhood, so I was more than plenty aware, and less than enthusiastic about talking about it . . .