Butch Please

I went to cut hair.
A butch cut my hair.
He explain to me how he will cut.
Act professional.
I say orh.
Then he cut.
He literally yank my hair off with scissors.
The hair flies around my face.
Then I became Congo. Hoo Hoo Hoo!
I keep twitching my nose to stop the hair-itch.
Butch don't get hint.

He washes my hair.
He's an exorcist,trying to scratch the demons out of my scalp and shaking them out.
I feel dispossessed.

I don't know what he's trying to prove.
That he's fat and he can protect girls.
The Hulk turns she-male for a day.
That he's Ronald Macdonald's god-daughter.
That Force=MA (Money x A suibian customer). I kena con money,I very sui bian,a lot of force applied on me.

It's funny how good hairstylists are mostly gay,which means guy having feminine intuition.
It's logical how,assuming the exact opposite,fucking lousy ones are butches,girl having male intuition.

Oh my my my,I'm like a mushroom now.
Super Mario can jump on me and then I will blink-blink-blink and disappear.

Always trust one hairstylist man.

So tired.
Ran ran ran,saw Miss Choo at ECP,don't want to turn into her,ran fast ran fast ran faster!
Smell. Smell. Smell. It gives a funny feeling. Makes me smile deep inside. Thank you somehow.
Foot Foot Football at 1am,I am sooo tired after running my ass off on the court.
I shall sleep.

I feel..... handcuffed with keys dangling at the back of my head.
I want my release! I hate green.
Damn,I'm exhausted.