A Close Shave

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I saw my next client walk into the hairdressers - he was both handsome and pretty, and VERY tall. And he had a lot of hair. This was concerning because I hated dealing with lots of hair. For some reason, that was my job.

"The name's John Taylor," he said, and sat down in the chair.

"From the band Duran Duran?" I asked him.

He nodded. Wow, a famous client!

"Shave all this off," he told me.

I was taken aback. I had to remove the mullet, the famous one?

"Are you sure?" I asked him, scared.

"I want to be bald. Make me shine like an egg." John told me.

How could I refuse?

I took the shearers and gradually cut it all off. I cried when I shaved it down, watching it fall to the floor. I am very emotional. John was keeping himself occupied by singing I do what I do.

"More hair off than that," he told me in a rude way, as I was switching to get a razor.

"I'm just doing it you fool," I snapped.

Then I shaved the rest of it off, and John left without paying - his mere presence was good enough as payment. John Taylor is bald and it's my fault.

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