Bad Day at the Hair Salon
A selected story by Maggie Estep, from the new anthology “Whorephobia”
I was an unemployed receptionist with dyed orange dreadlocks sprouting out of my skull. I needed a job, but first, I needed a haircut.
So I head for a beauty salon.
A gorgeous Puerto Rican girl in tight white spandex and a push-up bra sits me down and starts chopping my hair:
“Girlfriend,” she says, “what the hell you got growing outta your head there, what is that, hair implants? Yuck, you want me to touch that shit, whadya got in there, sandwiches?”
I just go: “I’m sorry.”
She starts snipping.
