What can I do for you? The haircut lady asked? I’d like a haircut please, I told her. What kind of snip are you looking for, she responded. The kind that’s going to get me in bed with you, I thought.

She had a beautiful face, dark brown hair, knockers the size of Connecticut, that’s right C cups. I didn’t notice a ring either, so perhaps she is on the market.

Her only flaws took place under her arms. They had more jiggle flap then one would desire, but everyone has cellulite to some degree and it was the Holidays, so I felt it was in season to be less shallow.

I’ll have a three all over, I responded.

Come follow me, she insisted. I did so and was guided to a chair. I took my seat, looked at my reflection and noticed a clock on the upper right corner of the mirror. It was your normal type of clock, non digital. It was shaped like a circle with a white background with black numbers and black pointers. The hour and minute arms were both black and the ticker, which is the arm that ticks every second, was red, just like my hair.

I always liked watching the red ticker. Just seeing time tick in front of you is interesting. I watched it round up to the nearest minute and it said 2:55 and I was blinded.

A second later I could see. The hair broad placed some type black robe over me and tied it around my neck. This black cloth covered most of my body from the neck under and prevented my hair, from getting onto my clothes. I’m sure there’s a proper name for this thing, but bare with me, I’m not a fucking Barbour.

So just a three all over, right? She asked. Yep, I responded.

I love your hair, she said. Thanks toots, I told her. She began to laugh and I thought I had a chance to rail her in. The next moment, the buzzing began and I felt the pressure of clippers going down my head. From my point of view it became difficult to look away from her fat arms. They were flapping at record pace on tempo with the vibrations. They jiggled the way a smoked brisket would when cooked to completion, kind of like jello.

Quit being so judge mental, I thought. Your alone for the holidays and this girl could have sex with you. There is more to her, then her lardy arms, I finished thinking.

So what do you do for a living? She asked me. I’m a cook, I said. Oh yeah, where at? She replied. A Bar B Q joint, I responded. I answered her questions vaguely to remain mysterious and keep her guessing.

Looks hot outside, she said. The lady continued her small talk and I responded to it.

I prefer it that way, I told her. She began to laugh, and that’s when I thought I had sealed the deal. When you start hearing laughs that don’t make sense, there’s a strong possibility that she likes you.

The whether here is so crazy, she said. Its December and its in the 90s, where I come from its freezing this time of year, she finished.

So where are you from? I asked her. Connecticut, she said.

At this point we had been talking for almost 5 minutes and she grew on me enough for me to let go of her fat lardy arms and make a move.

So why did you move here from Connecticut? I asked. As I began to work my magic, I awaited her response and looked up at the upper right corner of the mirror and saw that it was almost 3 o clock. I saw the red ticker rounding its way there, just seconds away.

Me and my fiance