HAIR TODAY GONE TOMORROW
WOW: boy. Desperate times call for desperate measures
Disclaimer: I don't own them
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"Sam, will you trim my hair for me?"
"Me?"
"Yes Sam, you. D'y know anyone else in this bunker called Sam?"
"You want me to trim your hair?"
"Am I speaking Hungarian?"
"You've spent your entire adult life criticising my hair, saying I look like a giant girl, and you WANT me to trim your hair?"
"Yes Sam. I want you to trim my hair because it's grown since we've been locked down; I haven't got eyes in my ass, so I can't see the back of my own head, and I DON'T wanna look like a giant girl."
"Ok, well sit down. One very-ungirl-like haircut coming up. I promise I'll make you look like a boy."
"I already look like a boy Sam."
"If you say so Dean."
*snip snip snip*
"Hey Dean,"
"What?"
"You've got a little bald patch."
"WHAT? Have you cut a chunk out of my hair?"
"No, it was already here. A little bald patch on your crown, sort of nickel-sized."
"NO!"
"Well, you are over forty Dean, it was bound to happen sooner or later."
"NO! I am not losing my hair!"
"Well, on the plus side, at least you don't look like a girl."
xxxxx
end