A Haircut

 

 

A Haircut

I picked up courage to sit on his chair,

The demon he hovered around;

Then gently he ran his hands through my hair

While making a strange humming sound.

 

He spoke in a voice I hardly could hear,

"It's longer than I've seen it before!"

Then he put his scissors' up close to my ear;

That's when I nearly made for the door.

 

He put his hands on my shoulders holding me down;

I was trapped with nowhere to go.

I looked in the mirror and saw his deep frown,

 Then I waited for that final blow.

 

But instead he was gentle as he started to clip,

Still humming his infinite tune.

In his hypnotic trance I started to slip,

My senses reeled all over the room.

 

Suddenly there was a change in the sound,

A burring from an infernal contraption.

I opened my eyes and looked all around

To see him fitting some kind of adaption

 

To the odd machine he held in his hand,

A cordless electrical clipper.

He waved it about like a mystical wand,

Perhaps to put a spell on his sitter.

 

From the back to the front and then down the sides

He leveled my locks with his mower;

While at the same time in me he confides

That his wife's run away with a rower.

 

I couldn't care less if she'd left in his skiff,

His talking was driving me barmy.

What was it to me that they had a great tiff

Because his son had signed up for the army.

 

At last he stood back to admire his creation,

Then proceeded to brush off the fluff

That had stuck to my face, a funny sensation,

But by that time I had had enough.

 

I leapt from his chair, threw his gown in his face;

I had a mad gleam in my eye.

I threw him some money and left that dire place.

I hate haircuts and I'll never know why!