A BALD WAITRESS

The feeling was palpable. I know that I’m not paranoid so I leaned across and asked why everyone was looking and laughing at me? I asked him if it was because I was in a wheelchair? My friend laughed and said no, they’re laughing at your hair. Is there something stuck in it, I asked? No, he said, they’re laughing at you because you’ve got hair.

I’d never noticed before. I looked over at my friends. They were all bald. A waitress leaned over me and asked me if I wanted anything else? I started to say no thank y… before the vowels were strangled. She was bald. I swivelled my head and saw that all the waitresses were bald. I turned my head the other way and saw all the waiters were bald too. A woman walked up with a basket and asked me if I would like to buy a rose for my wife? The basket was at my eye level and was filled with red and peach coloured roses. I looked up and started to tell her I wasn’t married. She was also bald. The lighting fixture above her gleamed a ray of light off her shiny scalp.

A bald man playing a violin walked up to me leant down and told me he would trade his left testicle for some hair. He was playing a waltz. I told him that would not be necessary. I told him I would shave all my hair off and fashion it into a wig if he would let me have his spine. He said yes before handing me a bread and butter knife. He turned around and pulled his shirt up exposing his vertebra. He told me to start cutting.

We all take for granted that life just is.

Andrew Stuart Buchanan

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