Dear Journal,
Today I went to get a haircut and had a really… Well… Quirky hairdresser, to say the least…
The fellow went by the name of “Snips,” I asked him if that was his first name or last name, to which he mentioned that was his “only name.” After our strange introduction, I proceeded to do what every normal customer getting a haircut does: never talks, always looks down, and prays for the session to be over as soon as possible.
Snips eyes appeared as though they were bugging out of his head, and his fashion was well… Let’s just say it didn’t leave much to the imagination since his torso was pretty, and that’s an understatement, bare… It reminds me of an indie holiday movie from a long time ago for some strange reason… Anyway, as Snips continued being like a meat man and butchering my hair, I noticed he used two scissors and was not holding any hair with his visible fingers like most hair stylists and barbers do. “It looks like you’re having trouble evening out my lopsided head, maybe you should try using one scissor and your delicate, albino looking hands you got there…” I suggested nicely, to which Snips stated delicately, “I have no hands, only scissors…”
After my head was finished being mangled, I thanked Snips for the “unique” hairdo. He bowed, and then stuck out his hand for a tip. Whoever let this one out of the loony bin is totally a few noodles short of a pasta salad themselves!