228 - Gender Bender
(Here's how this one works: If you are male, write as if you are a female hairdresser who works from the basement of her home in New Jersey.)
The emergency room is cleaner than I expected it to be. Still not sure how I got here or what happened to Harold but I'm sure it wasn't my fault. I was cutting his hair, (and by hair I mean his 5 strands of comb-over that could barely pass for an eyebrow if combined,) and he was talking about some such thing the government is doing wrong now. I was thinking about how nice it would be if Harold were elsewhere and I could just relax and read one of my stories. (The one I'm reading now is a really good one involving a mercenary stalking through the jungle killing his enemies one by one with just a pocket-knife; I just love a man who can kill a person 17 different ways.)
Anyway, I was daydreaming about Brick, (that's the hero with the pocket-knife,) when Harold snapped me out of it when he started screaming. Apparently, I had cut off all of his 5 hairs; he was now completely bald, (not that you would've thought different before.) When he noticed this in the mirror, he quickly stood up; that's when the screaming and bleeding started.
I hadn't realised that I had cut off Harold's right ear until he took a step and slipped on the bloody thing; there was quite a crunch when Harold hit the ground. I bent down to pick up the bloody ear, (meanwhile, Harold is crying "My back. My back.") The pool of blood around Harold's head must have frightened me; that's when I dropped my scissors. Poor Harold! I guess he won't be able to bowl for awhile now that he has 17 stitches in his left hand.
On the bright side, I get to read my story while I sit here and wait for Harold to get out of surgery. The nice young doctor, (I'm picturing him as Brick from now on,) thinks he will be able to re-attach Harold's ear so it'll be good as new. The nice young police officer has asked that Harold and I come by to make a statement for her sometime in the next couple days. I told her that we would and gave her my card. She has such lovely hair; I'd love to cut it sometime.
The emergency room is cleaner than I expected it to be. Still not sure how I got here or what happened to Harold but I'm sure it wasn't my fault. I was cutting his hair, (and by hair I mean his 5 strands of comb-over that could barely pass for an eyebrow if combined,) and he was talking about some such thing the government is doing wrong now. I was thinking about how nice it would be if Harold were elsewhere and I could just relax and read one of my stories. (The one I'm reading now is a really good one involving a mercenary stalking through the jungle killing his enemies one by one with just a pocket-knife; I just love a man who can kill a person 17 different ways.)
Anyway, I was daydreaming about Brick, (that's the hero with the pocket-knife,) when Harold snapped me out of it when he started screaming. Apparently, I had cut off all of his 5 hairs; he was now completely bald, (not that you would've thought different before.) When he noticed this in the mirror, he quickly stood up; that's when the screaming and bleeding started.
I hadn't realised that I had cut off Harold's right ear until he took a step and slipped on the bloody thing; there was quite a crunch when Harold hit the ground. I bent down to pick up the bloody ear, (meanwhile, Harold is crying "My back. My back.") The pool of blood around Harold's head must have frightened me; that's when I dropped my scissors. Poor Harold! I guess he won't be able to bowl for awhile now that he has 17 stitches in his left hand.
On the bright side, I get to read my story while I sit here and wait for Harold to get out of surgery. The nice young doctor, (I'm picturing him as Brick from now on,) thinks he will be able to re-attach Harold's ear so it'll be good as new. The nice young police officer has asked that Harold and I come by to make a statement for her sometime in the next couple days. I told her that we would and gave her my card. She has such lovely hair; I'd love to cut it sometime.
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