My Barber Moved Away And I Am Very Sad

My barber moved away. I didn’t know that this sadness existed until now. My heart is empty and my confidence is shattered. I was never a brave hair boy; no, I was a cowardly hair child. I was as spineless as they come. And while my friends tried out different styles, and experimented with new looks, I still looked like I had arrived fresh from a friend’s bar mitzvah. But this all changed with my friend, my best friend, Mr. Natty. My friend, my best friend, Mr. Natty would sit me down in his chair and soothe my fears with his English accent. As he sliced and diced my fragile bangs, he regaled me with stories of old mates getting arrested for dealing ecstasy and then broken out of the prison yard by his bank robber father.

I became fearless with Mr. Natty, my friend, my best friend, by my side. With his well trimmed mustache, his suave outfits, and the unmatched twinkle in his eyes, he lead me into the promised land of not being a fearful fucker.

But now, just as unexpectedly as he arrived in my life, he has departed. He goes back to London-town, back to his travels, back to a life that doesn’t include me.

I wish him the best, my friend, my best friend, Mr. Natty.

This is all to say, I want to get a daring new hair cut but I also really don’t want to look like a Nazi. Without Mr. Natty, my friend, my best friend, I don’t know if that’s a risk I can take.

Pray for me.