Long live the hair

Well, the hair is gone. Long live the hair! No longer can I shake my head dry like a dog.
I’d had enough, so I told your wan in Haartari: “Mach was du willst, aber nicht nichts.” Whatever the hell you want, except nothing at all. (You can never be too careful.) She didn’t get me. “Etwas. Mach etwas.” Just do something. She suggested something. That’s grand, work away.
For over an hour she chopped and sheared and clipped and cut and chipped and chopped some more. She even brought the shaver out and shaved and cut and chopped and cut and chopped some more. When she finished I could see my ears. My ears!
On the way home I could feel them; bitter wind whistling by without mercy. Never again will I slag anyone with ear muffs.
“Jaaaysus,” Jenny said when I opened the door. The shock too much to take. She gulped, almost laughed, tried to recontrol her composure. The nipper couldn’t look. He was asleep, and I sure as hell wasn’t waking him.
I’d been worried he mightn’t recognise me, but once he woke up he didn’t look any more sceptical that he did already anyway. Maybe he thinks I’m trying to copy his style. He needn’t worry – he’ll always be the centre of attention, but finally, I’ve had a proper haircut. The days of people pointing and laughing are gone. Hopefully.