Drunken Barber

I received a hair­cut yes­ter­day. I think the bar­ber was drunk. I’d nev­er been to this place before. Joe’s Bar­ber­shop in Lake­wood. Right next to the crap­pi­est fenc­ing club in Cleve­land. I walk in and the place is dead qui­et. Emp­ty.

From the back, some old guy said “I’ll be with you in a minute!” and came out a minute lat­er with a can in one of those rubbery/plastic keep-your-can coolie/cozy things. So I got a hair­cut and a beard trim and my neck shaved, and all the while this bar­ber guy is swig­ging from the can in the thinger. He did­n’t give me a chance to approve the hair­cut, but whipped off the apron thingy. I took a clos­er look in the mir­ror, and though the hair­cut was a lit­tle ragged, my hair is too short for it to be very notice­able. Prob­a­bly not going back to Joe’s Bar­ber­shop though.

I tried going to a bar­ber­shop near­by to Tremont called Pete the Bar­ber, but the address is a McDon­ald’s now, which is a bit strange. Per­haps I’ll find a nice place down­town to get my mop chopped.

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