Email to:Have You Ever Been Sullied?
I’m reasonably well-balanced – EXCEPT when it comes to my hair…….
I’m obsessed, POSSESSED. I MUST hang onto it at any cost. Regularly, dear friends remind me that very long locks on women of a certain age ‘ drag the face down even further’. One recently proferred that I looked like an old bird selling dagwood dogs at a country show…..
BUT I will NOT be deterred…..
My hair’s going NOWHERE. Touch it and I’ll render you Chicken Maryland cuts in a split second.
BLAME IT ON MRS SULLIVAN: ’SULLY’.
KJ Post-’Sully’ (Credit: ‘Sully’ Blame: ‘Sully’.
‘Sully’ – retired master hair artiste - was Gwennie’s long-time stylist. Their relationship went back to WW2 when ’Sully’ had Leeton’s plushest salon, Irrigated Waves. The young and very chic Gwennie was her most loyal client.
It was said Gwennie had the best all round roll (with side curls) in the Riverina. And this sensational all round roll (with side curls) had worked a treat because she’d hooked the handsome Hec, producing five lovely girls in record time.
With money tight though, it was hard work keeping them vaguely presentable…………..
But ‘Sully’ - keen to keep her hand in on the hair design front – stepped up, becoming our very own in-house cutter, GRATIS!
HOWEVER, ‘Sully’s’ passion for her craft had a terrible downside – we were being shorn to within a millimetre of our scalps at least every month. Gwennie knew ‘Sully’s’ professional visits were controversial with the clientele, refusing point blank to disclose when she was going to burst in with her mobile torture kit - razor sharp scissors, blunt neck clippers and a plastic groundsheet.
‘Sully’s’ Hubby ‘Sniffles’ (so named because he sniffed a lot) would just suddenly drop his loved one off, promising he’d return when all the kids (sniff) had been (sniff) done……(sniff, sniff, sniff).
Before the kids were done, Gwennie and ‘Sully’ had important business to transact over the lammie table: a double scotch each AND, for Gwennie, a rare indulgence: One Garrick cigarette, compliments of the many Garrick ‘Sully’.
To tell you the truth, Gwennie never looked at home with her Garrick. Her eyes bulged, the Garrick teetered ridiculously between her thumb and the next finger and she took little poof, poofs rather than puff puffs.
After the Baccanalia….. RAW ACTION.
Gwennie stalked the clients, pulling them from under beds, up the peach tree and behind the wood heap. And then ‘Sully’ did us. Firstly, she wrapped our trembling torsos in the groundsheet, rendering them motionless.
AND did I mention that ‘Sully’ also had terrible arthritis……..?
NOT that a cruel disability was going to stop her. With scissors gripped by gnarled fingers, ‘SULLY’ let fly on the terrified clients already minimum regrowth.
CHOP, CHOP…SLICE, SLICE…CUT, CUT….HEADS BANG BANG ON THE LAMMIE TABLE…EARS UNDER SCISSOR ATTACK…CHOP, CHOP…NECKS TWISTED…CUT CUT…EYES UNDER SCISSOR ATTACK…SLICE, SLICE…HEADS BANG BANG ON TABLE…NECKS UNDER CLIPPER ATTACK…CLIPPERS GOUGING…BLOOD CURDLING WHIRR WHIRR…BLOOD SEEPAGE……SILENCE…..HEADS WRENCHED TO UPRIGHT POSSIES……
IT WAS OVER. CLIENTS STUMBLE TO BEDROOMS FOR SHOCK-INDUCED REPOSE.
It was always difficult turning up to school after being ‘Sullied’.
BUT, I don’t blame my classmates for getting off on my misfortune, having a laugh. Wouldn’t you? If a young Friar Tuck (minus charisma and with obvious gender issues) turned up on a regular basis?
(cr:Laughing Squid: flickr)
******In THE ARTS: National Pom Pom Festival Director, The Ginger Man, is still ingratiating himself to his driver (the incredibly tiresome), Miss Honeysuckle (’Hockey Sticks’) Weeks She’ll let him down, Oh yes she will…..
The Fat Lamb Chronicles continue in the comments section……
Today, something new. No questions. You lot ignore them anyway which I think is terribly creative…..
Instead, some key words to get us all thinking – and COMMENTING. They are: Sully, Hair, Unfortunate, Artist, Arthritis. Ignore if ya want. Just report in with news (ugly and comforting) on your front…..
******ALL commenters go for it!! Just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo – just ignore it.
Prawn Cutlet Award
July 20th, 2009 at 11:56 am
Dear KJ,
I reckon ‘Sully’s’ relatives must have dropped off her grooming tools at my local Op-Shop.
Still in original box.
Ostermodel H 3-in-1 clipper.
Razor blades still in brown paper wrapping.
Ten-inch tapered scissors.
I was very excited with my find!
I’m checking for DNA samples.
Who knows what can be cloned……
Did ‘Sully’ snip ‘Sniffles’?
Dear Megsy,
I want you to (RIGHT NOW) hand that ‘grooming kit’ in at your local police station. Listen to me closely: It AIN’T no KIT. It’s a weapon and you don’t know whose hands it could fall into. In the WRONG ones, bad things WILL happen. And you don’t want to live with that, do you?
Did ‘Sully’ snip ‘Sniffles’? Yes, she did. And that’s why he was always emotional and could NOT stop sniffling……KJ.
July 20th, 2009 at 12:11 pm
KJ,
How about a photo of you after a visit to ‘Sully’?
It never ceases to amaze me how kids go and get the weirdest hair cuts the day before school photos are taken.
Dear Megsy,
I believe I do have a pic of a young KJ ‘Post-Sully’. I’ll get it scanned and up in the next couple of days. Prepare for the worst! KJ.
July 20th, 2009 at 2:23 pm
THE FAT LAMB CHRONICLES
DRIVING ALONG SURVEYINGTHE ROUTE FOR THE NATIONAL POM POM FESTIVAL……
Hadn’t thought much about hockey, until now, Sam..er Honey..er..whatever.
Sam would be fine, Sir!
Thank you, Sam………
It’s a fine game for healthy women, I suppose.
You must come and watch me play, Sir!
I’d like that.
Shall I drop you at the Fat Lamb Hotel?
No, I think not, Sam. Perhaps we could go for a drive. Would you mind moving those hockey sticks?
July 20th, 2009 at 2:37 pm
I’d describe my hair as ‘courageous’.
In fact, my follicles deserve a VC.
They just hang in there: NO SURRENDER!
Dear The Magnet,
I’ve been worried. When last we heard from you, the news was not good. To quote: your ‘cataracts were falling’. Extra thrilled to hear that your hair is staying put….KJ.
July 20th, 2009 at 6:54 pm
That clipper set sounds like it might once have belonged to the great Barry Irvine, Leeton’s premier tonsorialist with his shop down there next to the State Bank. Does the apparatus smell of bay rum?
Barry’s son Dennis played with the Redlegs for umpteen years and, on the occasion of an interview in The Irrigator to mark his achievement of the ultimate footy milestone, modestly declared himself to be fair dinkum the worst player ever to play 300 games.
Dear Roma Street,
YES! And Barry’s still making over the men of Leeton, isn’t he?
And his boy Dennis – what a hero! Three-hundred games in self-described ’so-so’ style. What loyalty! What guts! There’s a book in there: ‘Dennis Irvine: On Tenacity’.
* You were dead right with your prediction that ‘NO-Packet-Cake’ Julie would beat Poh for the first ‘MasterChef’ Crown.
Now, you tell me, how can someone SO nervy ever run a busy bistro? KJ.
July 20th, 2009 at 8:41 pm
I’m hoping the relevant authorities will put a big Pom Pom on top of the Parkes Telescope on the occasion of the 40th anniversary of the Moon Landing.
Dear The Dude,
As you probably know I have close links with the boys (particularly overnighter Wazza) at The Dish.
They’re fantastic, often passing on highly sensitive printouts of Malcolm T and The Rev Kev’s sleep patterns. I know Wazza’s been lobbying hard for a massive celebratory Pom Pom. Here’s hoping…..
(By the way, Wazza said that Therese R’s recent assertion that The Rev Kev operates on three hours sleep a night, was way out of kilter. The Parkes boys haven’t detected even ONE Rev Kev wink since January. ‘Thank God he’s got that driver Gary Handjob, thank God,’ Wazza said.
July 21st, 2009 at 2:00 am
ARMSTRONG
Is it just forty years since you went there
And you did it, and we watched and
You put no foot wrong and we all spoke
Of our hero Armstrong?
For it seems only yesterday and not all that long
You stood on the Moon so young and strong
But what have you done since, old Neil Amstrong?
Do you lie in your bed filled with fear
About what is happening on Earth down here?
July 21st, 2009 at 7:16 am
Good morning everyone,
…….Forty years since we all remember where we were when we watched a Man Called Adam Walk Upon The Earth….sorry, sorry, sorry…..it’s very early….
You know what I mean…..?
I was in a packed classroom at Leeton’s St Joseph’s Primary School. I CAN’T remember a telly arriving: but there it was.
The nuns were very nervy AND I so they should be, I thought.
When the grainy action started I desperately wanted SOMEONE, SOMETHING to come up to Neil and say:
Sorry folks, I made all this…..The Moon, The Earth, The Stars, Leeton, The Whole Bloody Lot AND I AIN’T CALLED GOD!
* Your memories of The Moon Landing?
*Sad that Neil been left with a legacy of uncontrollable zero-gravity-affected hair. NO product on the market has yet been able to stop his fringe from constantly bouncing up and down…..
July 21st, 2009 at 9:13 am
For forty years, I have been living with the burden of a terrible secret.
It is this………
On the day of the Moon Landing I was working as a young(ish) journalist.
The blokes at The Dish told me something BUT I didn’t report it, deeming it insignificant in the scheme of things.
What they told me was this. The final exchange they picked up from NASA to Neil just before he was beamed Moonwalking LIVE was:
Ground control to Major Tom,
HAVE YOU GOT YOUR KNICKERS ON?
Dear Chadwick,
In what surely would have been the words of my first chief-of-staff, the late, great Peter Cullen of The Illawarra Mercury….this is a ball-tearer of a yarn. Torture yourself NO more….you’ve FILED and you’ve FILED here!
* Apparently, the fellas at the Honeysuckle Telescope are miffed that the Parkes boys get all the Apollo 11 attention. Pathetic, isn’t it? Sorry Honeysucklers……if this little community respected the Parkes fellas any MORE, this would be declared their tribute site. Some people!
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2009/07/21/2631897.htm
July 21st, 2009 at 9:19 am
KJ – You may have heard of Random Walk Theory and Random Matrix Theory. My MasterChef prediction was based on Random House Theory.
What shifts the most units?
A book full of quirky Chinese-Malaysian dishes with ingredients like century eggs and hand-made squid ink noodles, written by a zany ethnic dauber who gets her gear off in the name of art?
Or 101 Ways With A Lamb Chop from the pen of a proud Aussie mum-of-three?
Dear Roma Street,
I see, I see….And 101 Things You Must Do With A Lamb Chop Before You Die will be stuffing Aussie Mums’ support stockings LIKE HOW this Chrissy?
Where were you when Neil A made sure his knickers were secured? On the slide in Mountford Park?
KJ.
July 21st, 2009 at 10:19 am
Moon landing?
I was at St Francis College, Leeton. The St Joseph’s section.
Girls did not mix with boys who were under the kinder tutelage of Marist Brothers.
We girls did not have a TV. The boys did. Not for any situation or world event could the two meet. So, no I did not see the landing.
Those black St Joey’s nuns saw to that. For all the good it did to those girls who later really understood the miracle of Immaculate Conception.
Dear Ex-Leetonite,
To be denied the Moon landing, is to denied WONDER itself. There’s a big Pom Pom atop The Dish today and it’s for you baby, all for you……
Just up the road from me is the (now converted to flats) Convent Of The Immaculate Conception. I had a peak in the lobby one day. It was full of prams…..KJ.
July 21st, 2009 at 1:25 pm
Management muses….yes the irrelevant authorites (sic) at it again.
And Why Oh Why (yoy) is there not a signal gravatar?
Now coming back to matters at hand: tonsorial tension.
KJ thinking the deep thoughts to pre-digest these matters for her audience . Why don’t we shift KJ to Life Matters…..?
Dear Mr O’Slatter,
Where you been? Praying? Having your hair done? Hellraising? Anyway, great to hear from you.
Now, I think you’re going to have to accept that while we all appreciate a good gravatar, no one in here knows how to get one…..
In light of some of the previous posts in here, I think now is the appropriate time to ask: Who made The O’Slatter? Was it (a) Jesuit priests or (b) Christian or (c) Marist Brothers? KJ.
July 21st, 2009 at 5:32 pm
THE FAT LAMB CHRONICLES:
Lunar Tuesday, July 21, 2009.
Where to now……Sir?….SIR?
Sorry, Samantha, a little distracted I’m afraid.
Sir?
Thinking about how some of the old Bletchley boffins helped…
With Ultra, Sir?
No. With the Apollo. Right here in Parkes. Thought we might pay a visit to The Dish.
Dish, Sir?
Yes the radio telescope.
…….The Moon, worthy of lovers – but also a source of painful reminiscence for others – rose above the Lachlan Flood Plain.
On the back seat, The Five Super Puppies, their mother Festina, the Vixen and her half-dingo-half-fox youngster, Fingo, did not take their eyes off Samantha.
Their pom poms gave them a jaunty appearance, but they were not friendly towards Samantha, the driver.
Turn left here, Sir? SIR?
My apologies, yes, it is right over there……
The Dish came into sight.
In its centre was a Giant Pom Pom.
The boys from The Fat Lamb Hotel had visited.
July 21st, 2009 at 8:30 pm
Hi Billy Baby,
I used to have three cats – called Dignatas, Civitas and GRAVATAR.
Dignatus was famous for digging.
Civitas (due to his shy nature) was famous for sleeping.
And Gravatar (due to the force of gravity) fell down a well and expired.
We buried Gravatar in a grave suitable to his Denkart.
Each cat understood Latin but couldn’t make head nor tail of Windows Vista.
July 21st, 2009 at 9:27 pm
I was Under the Table Top when HE landed.
I am The Under The Table Top Man.
July 22nd, 2009 at 12:31 am
THE FAT LAMB CHRONICLES……..
The Dish, Parkes, NSW.
Sir, do you think we should go back now?
Perhaps, Samantha.
Sir?
Yes, let’s go. Wait a moment. Ah, there goes the Moon. We can go now.
Yes, Sir.
July 22nd, 2009 at 9:30 am
Dear KJ,
I’m actually feeling that TGM should pay more attention to Samantha.
Designated drivers are hard to come by.
Canine attack more than possible.
Yes Siree!
Dear Megsy,
The Ginger Man was (like many of us) in a contemplative mood on Lunar Tuesday…..the old Bletchley days, youth, nature (Fingo) versus techology (The Dish)……Honeysuckle Creek versus Honeysuckle Weeks…….
Now, you know I’m NOT fond of Samantha/Honeysuckle BUT are you claiming she could be dangerous?
Stuck up is one thing – stark raving mad quite another…..KJ.
July 22nd, 2009 at 9:57 am
Dear Gwennie,
Through KJ’s writings, I feel I know you very well.
What a hairdo the young Kerrie Jean sported!
Well done ‘Sully’.
Your snips made for resilience – and a readiness to endure the bullying culture of journalism.
NO child should have to wear hair like THAT!
(Actually it’s cute. Good on you, Gwennie. It looks like you had a lovely daughter).
Dear Megsy,
The BULLYING culture of journalism? Anyone refusing to take my calls IS premium mince meat, premium MINCE MEAT!! They wish they’d stayed out of public life (Oh YEAH, they’ve probably got their hand in the till anyway, YEAH), they’ll lose everything (YEAH, hair, car AND Frequent Flyer Points) and they’ll rue the day they ever heard my name. YEAH!!! KJ.
July 22nd, 2009 at 2:40 pm
KJ – When Neil A (allegedly) took his first step on the dusty orb I was yet to take my first step on Terra Firma. I was but a babe-in-arms.
Roma Street,
Allegedly! – NOT a crazy conspiracy theorist at work in here….? KJ.
July 22nd, 2009 at 2:54 pm
I think K. Rudd’s been ’sullied’.
Dear Mrs T,
I trust you are talking about The Rev Kev’s locks and NOT that appalling episode in the pole dancing club in NY (which the cruel denizens of the press will NEVER let him forget…) KJ.
July 22nd, 2009 at 3:04 pm
THE FAT LAMB CHRONICLES
(Driving back from surveying the Pom Pom on top of The Dish)
You’re shivering, Samantha.
Not really, Sir.
Yes you are. Take my scarf.
It’s green. Cambridge, Sir?
No. Trinity, Dublin……..
July 22nd, 2009 at 5:34 pm
THE FAT LAMB CHRONICLES
Why are you pulling over, Samantha?
I have some duties to attend to Sir. Here is your scarf back.
Thank you, Samantha.
Thank you, Sir. Please alight from the car, Sir.
Very well. Come on Festina, Foxie, Fingo, The Five Super Puppies………
Goodbye, Sir.
WHRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOm.
……..On the road again. Very cold.
Never mind.
I’ve got The Five Super Pups to keep me warm………
Dear TGM – Good grief! We warned you about Honeysuckle/Sam, we did! WHO exactly is she? WHO the hell does she THINK she is? WHAT is she capable of? DID she think Poms Poms on top of The Dish, inappropriate? You were lucky to escape with your life, you really were…..sometimes I really don’t know what makes some people tick! KJ.
July 22nd, 2009 at 6:25 pm
ON THE ROAD AGAIN
Somewhere on The Lachlan Plain……
I’ll remember Samantha……
Come on, fellas. I’ll light a fire and we’ll snuggle up.
Fingo, you’re on guard duty.
July 22nd, 2009 at 6:41 pm
KJ,
That hair do is the best insurance against nits I’ve ever seen.
Thank you. KJ.
July 22nd, 2009 at 8:08 pm
Hello. I am Under The Table Top Man.
Today, I have special information on G String 8.
I listen UTTT to Patrizia and Silvio.
Silvio 72 years old.
I watch his diet for some secret ingredient.
What is it? Merkin and Salad?
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/europe/article6722553.ece
July 23rd, 2009 at 12:53 am
Missus Gwennie, you have a lovely daughter,
Yet every month you lead her to the slaughter……
And Mrs Sully clips far, far more than she oughter.
If she was faster then or could run on water,
Little Kerrie Jean, she would have surely fought yer.
July 23rd, 2009 at 10:43 am
KJ – Just being mischievous. I always throw in ‘allegedly’ when talking about the moon landing because it seems to get some folks really steamed up.
Although it is odd that people – who contend that the American government has lied to the world and been involved in vast, wide-reaching conspiracies against the truth on everything from Who Shot JFK right through to WMDs – consider it patently absurd that the US government could have or would have faked the moon landing.
Presumably this is because they saw the moon landing on TV, and if something is on TV, it must be true.
Dear Roma Street,
What a relief! By the way, did you know that the establishment of the Murrumbidgee Irrigation Area was funded by Tsarist Russia?
Why? So the last Tsar and his family could flee their Post-Revolution homeland and live unharassed in exile in Leeton. The plush Hydro Hotel was purpose-built for them. It was orginally known as The Romanov but local historians have continually denied this.
Sadly, due to circumstances beyond their control, the Romanovs never made it to Leeton. But one day, the truth will out… KJ.
July 23rd, 2009 at 10:55 am
Gosh KJ,
I am surprised.
I thought Fingo and the other flea bags would be the danger TO Samantha.
Samantha deserting TGM!!!!!
What about the Pom Pom Festival?
What will I do with all this wool???
Dear Megsy, I think we can safely assume that plans are ON HOLD for Australia’s inaugural Pom Pom Festival.
THE surplus wool: A Fair Isle twin-set for Fingo? KJ.
July 23rd, 2009 at 1:29 pm
ONCE A NOT-SO-JOLLY SWAG TGM……
The Moon cast an eerie light on the Plain.
I walked to the edge of the road.
The moonlight captured something silver.
An abattoir boning knife.
It lay next to a hockey stick.
Fingo began a strange Ooorooo at the Moon.
It seemed in context……………
July 23rd, 2009 at 1:40 pm
KJ –
If you put that theory to some of the Country Party stalwarts around the joint in Leeton, I reckon you’d get a knowing nod.
I remember a well-attended public meeting in the Soldiers’ Club back some 20-odd years ago when the stout yeomen of the district piled into utes and Nissan Patrols to come into town to listen to some itinerant whack-job spruiking his theory about an alleged Fabian Society conspiracy to foist One-World Government upon an unsuspecting populace.
Apparently, this secret movement was being spearheaded by an unholy alliance of George Bush Snr and RJ Hawke, who would duly be named joint presidents of the whole world.
It was a sea of tweed as far as the eye could see.
Scratch a farmer and you’ll find a conspiracy theorist of the nuttiest kind. I blame all those lonely hours on the tractor.
Gee whizz Roma Street,
You get around! What a fantastic night out……
EXACTLY, what was in those supper bain maries? KJ.
July 23rd, 2009 at 2:46 pm
ONCE A NOT-SO-JOLLY SWAG TGM
A knife?
What was she? A MasterChef contestant?
A boner?
Certainly upon reflection she was not Samantha.
And she was not English.
Nobody that English is English.
She must be Irish.
What sort of Irish?
The thought hit me like a cosh…………..
Magdalen Laundry.
July 23rd, 2009 at 3:16 pm
Thank you, Roma Street.
Conspiracy Theories? They’re a conspiracy, you know.
One World? What? Led by Bush Snr and the Silver Budgie (both back on the turps?).
And why is it that men who grow taters and cabbages think they can run the world?
I sees skies of smoke, red noses too…….
AND I say to myself……What a buggered up world.
July 24th, 2009 at 11:40 am
Allow me to clarify.
When I say that I remember the meeting, I don’t mean that I attended the blessed thing.
I wouldn’t submit to being locked into an Old Spice-scented hall full of sons of the soil no matter what fascinating anthropological insights might be on offer. Not even if the party pies were on the house.
I see, I see. NOW Roma Street (for a gal from a farming district) I fear your feelings towards those ’sons of the soil’ are approaching the pathological.
I have come across many town girls with a similar perspective.
I used to be one and then – in the 1970’s – someone whispered to me just HOW much a rice farm was worth.
I changed my attitude.
For a couple of weeks, I turned into a Sunwhite Rice Cake digger. Hec and Gwennie said my new demeanour was inappropriate. And they were right. KJ.
July 24th, 2009 at 3:25 pm
Sir?
(The firelight outlined her cap, her pale face, her hair tucked neatly behind…..)
Sir?
Samantha!
(She had returned)
I am sorry, Sir. I had some quite urgent business. When I quickly returned you had gone.
I see. Well, all’s well that ends well, yes?
Yes, Sir.
We’d better be getting back to the Festival and the Fat Lamb.
Yes, Sir.
Come on fellas, into the vehicle.
Samantha?
Yes, Sir!
Have you ever been to Ireland?
Only once, Sir.
How long?
From memory, I’d say about nine months, Sir.
Come on fellas, into the vehicle.
I’ll help you, Sir.
Thank you, Samantha. Off to the Fat Lamb Hotel.
Yes, Sir.
July 25th, 2009 at 1:50 am
Helloooooo……
I am Under The Table Top Man.
I authentic reporter for KJ.
Three times?
Berlusuconi lie three times.
I trruthful reporter.
I am Under The Table Top Man on the scene……..
*A voice said to be Mr Berlusconi’s can also be heard in another recording bragging: Now I am unbeatable — three times! It turned out that this was a reference to the number of G8 meetings he has hosted — more than any other international leader. (The Times)
July 25th, 2009 at 9:45 pm
FOR THE GINGER MAN
O Mister Ginger Man,
Where do you lead us?
What is your direction, and
What dark path lies behind?
You never speak to us of Love,
Has that been lost on the Altar?
O Mister Ginger Man,
Why do we follow you?
What is our direction, and
What bright path unfolds before?
So please speak to us of Love,
Of some consuming, wild desire…….
Or has it all been burned in the fire?
July 26th, 2009 at 12:34 pm
TBL,
Sorry, in SOE (Special Operations Expedition) we learned to offer the interrogator a false, but plausible explanation.
July 28th, 2009 at 12:33 pm
KJ,
You reckon being ‘Sullied’ is bad. Try this.
In the early 70s, I was in Assembly (akin to Muster in prisons), when A Black Saint Joey approached.
She said: ‘I’ll teach you to wipe that smile off your face…’
Instantly, from under her breast plate, she produced a pair of scissors.
Before me, on the concrete, lay my pony tail and its dusky blue ribbon.
That nun is dead. I’m now a nice shade of silver.
She’s in Hell. In due time I will take revenge upon her from my perch in Heaven!
Your hair looks fine on your blog pic.
Dear, DEAR Scalped,
The HAIR cutters! A breed apart even in a harsh, harsh system….
Your best revenge? Long, glorious PLAITS……KJ.