Where Anything Goes twitter/trashbaggage

The barber shop

… reminiscing as a small boy, my first visit to the barbershop, the old man in Los Angeles, off of Avalon & Manchester, back in the late ’60s before Mr. Banks, on Rosecrans & Aranbe street, in Compton. I cried like a muhfucka who was going to see the doctor, not knowing what to expect. This muhfucka got clippers in one hand and scissors in the other with a comb, between his fingers. I’m guessing at that age seeing scissors and a comb, how the fuck does this work? And I have no idea what the fuck is Clippers. I’m close to becoming traumatized because he’s wearing a white robe disguising as a physician, I’m thinking, I’m headed for surgery. And here he comes, he turns on the clippers, a loud buzz sound, I’m scared, looking at this shining object approaching over my head, hearing it vibrating nshit. That’s when I fucken died! My father helped this stranger to hold me down, I’m like what the fuck, isn’t this shit betrayal? Shit, this my life! I’m fucked up, seated in a high chair, which I didn’t know until afterward, it’s embarrassing because big boys don’t sit on booster seats. Anyway, while being held & strap down, I’m pissed & screaming loud & kicking at the barber, then given a lollipop, to calm down. After that, I didn’t mind receiving haircuts. Being a little kiddo, It’s a hellified experienced the first time, at THE BARBER SHOP
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…Sly Cain

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