So today I decided I really needed to do something about my limp, flyaway, graying hair.
I’m frustrated because, well, I’m beginning to look my age. And, you know, that just doesn’t seem natural. So I consulted the online Yellow Pages for area barbers and hair salons and read about an intriguing little place out near Skidaway Island (I’m in Savannah, by the way) called … The Babies Hair Salon.
I drove over, parked Skedaddler (my lil gray Scion) (gray seems to be a theme in my life lately) (just not fifty shades of it) (yet) and found myself being promptly greeted by, believe it or not, two surprised-looking BABIES! Ten-month-old twins Madison and Matthew …
When he saw my hair, I got the impression that Matthew had initial concerns about his and his sister’s ability to help me …
Perhaps Madison had the same concern, but she tried to mask her feelings with a blank stare.
Nevertheless, the duo led me into their salon’s inner sanctum.
“I’m beginning to see a color scheme here,” I thought perceptively and intelligently.
Matthew and Madison took a moment to look through their style books to see what they might be able to do for me.
“This is definitely going to be a challenge,” they seemed to be saying.
I felt my first tiny jolt of trepidation when I realized they were looking at books about cows and sheep.
With determination set clearly upon their young but professional countenances, the twins indicated for me to help them up into their work spaces.
“An odd request,” I thought. “They don’t do that at the Barber Pole downtown.” But, the completely compliant client, I obeyed.
And for about sixty seconds, everything seemed to be going well. Just typical stylist assessment techniques such as cranial observation and exploratory scalp manipulation.
Then, inexplicably, I got the distinct impression that Madison was somehow asking Matthew to consult with the monkeys on the wall about the next step.
But before I had time to investigate, they got to work.
“This might be fun,” I thought, kinda smiling.
Madison gently massaged in soothing hair cream.
Then they both started to get a little rough, I thought, for ten-month-olds.
Seemingly out of the blue, I sensed a frustrated Matthew yelling to Madison, “Enough of this, sissy! There’s no way to help this old man!”
“Bite him!” she might have said.
“What going on here?!” I thought in terror. “Are they baby vampires or something? Nick at Twilight?! Whatever. I’m outta here.”
As Skedaddler and I hightailed it back to Savannah’s historic district where I live across from Colonial Park Cemetery, I looked in my rearview mirror and thought, “You know, gray’s not such a bad color. It’s kinda in-between.”
(Thanks to Grandtwins Matthew and Madison for help with this post. And the iPhone’s reverse camera.)