Off to the Hairdresser

- Hey, where are you going?
- Out.
- Not with that hair you’re not!
- That’s the only hair I got.
- It looks a mess. Like you’re some kind of wild jungle man.
- You know I’m not. I’m too white to be a jungle man. The sun hasn’t seen my skin for years.
- Typical.
- What’s typical?
- You think you’re too good for the sun to see you.
- Rubbish. It sees my face and my hands most days.
- But not your fat belly. No, it’s too good and fine and white for the sun to see.
- What nonsense. You know I hate it when it’s hot and that would be the only occasion for taking my shirt off.
(In a mocking whining tone:) — Ooh, it’s too hot. I better stay inside and turn on the fan. Oh, my delicate constitution!
- Now you’re being rude and silly. Got out of the wrong side of the bed today?
- Now you mention it. There was a wall. I banged my head against it.
- It has always been there. Why did you do that?
- I forgot.
- Forgot what?
- That I wasn’t in a dinghy in a blue lagoon with Johnny Weissmuller.
- Why would you be in a blue lagoon with Johnny Weissmuller?
- I was dreaming, wasn’t I? Can’t a lady dream?
- Of course you can. But Johnny Weissmuller was way before your time.
- Well, I dreamt I was in a time before my time.
- That makes sense.

while the grass sleeps you fill thimbles with hamsters and codeine

- Where were you thinking of going anyway?
- To the hairdresser.
- Not with that hair you’re not.

living in Denmark

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