A scary hairy deal

Here goes:

The last time I remember entering  a  hair dresser’s was almost a year ago. To be precise July of 08 (The day still haunts me) just before my graduation.  

Since then I have refused to get a haircut for many reasons, the prominent one being: Who cares?

It seems I have scared enough people with my hairstyle that they tried to talk me into getting a cut.

From all the aunties and their daughters,  they want my hair to be cut. 

Being who I’m (Stubborn and half-witted) it’s needless to say they couldn’t convince me. 

 

Enter Ma:

Said she’ll pay me if I get my haircut. 

Well, I’m a reasonable man. (You know that!)

You can imagine what came next.

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