Barbering

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A day in the life of my work

Here we go, what fate awaits? I'll have to wait and see,

just what type of clients, walk through that door for me.

Here he comes, client number one, is shuffling through the door

a half bald old age pensioner, he looks about ninety four!

''Whatever theres left, just shave it off!'', that is his request,

an easy start to my day, thank God I have been blessed.

He tells me of last nights football, and his day ahead

of all things on his shopping list and his wife whos sick in bed.

And when I'm finished with his hair he asks ''How much is that?''

I say ''Four Pound'' and he replies ''Heres a fiver, just keep that!''

Now as he leaves I think to myself I hope there all like him,

but the chances of that happening are fat and fucking slim.

And as i say that to myself, in walks client number two,

a dirty greasey smelly tramp who smells like piss and poo.

He says to me ''Just make me neat'', I think where do I start?

His hairs a fuckin bumblewig and his scalp is falling apart!

Just like his breath his patters shit, and his BO isn't funny,

no tip for cutting this cunts nest?!! I should be on danger money!!

As he walks out, in with his mum comes client number three,

She says ''Todays his second birthday, please cut him a wee V''

I get the wee weans seat out, I wonder will he sit

and then he starts to scream and ball, OH GREAT! He's a wee shit!

He wriggles and he giggles, I think ''Will you please just sit still!''

His mum just reads a Bella, while I repress the urge to kill!

All through his fucking squirming, my temper this boy feeds,

I am just a barber, its an exorcist he needs!

At last I have now finished him, he was the child from hell

turned into a styled wee angel, with the help of some hair gel.

Mum thanks and pays and off she goes, she heads toward the door,

and now Ive strarted crying, Ive just seen client number four.

As this teen sits down, I start to sweat as if Ive took a fever

I know what he's about to say, ''I'll have a Justin Beiber!''

I hate these fuckin hair-dos, they do my fucking swede in!

I think of my scissors at his neck and for the mercy he'd be pleading!

I finish him and he tips me well and I say ''Why thanks! How kind!''

If he thinks looks like Justin Beiber, he must be fuckin blind!

After him I sit with tea and think on my vocation,

and ponder all the other barbers who work throughout the nation.

A gallant band of chicks and blokes, now thats for fuckin sure

They all must have my madness, for which there is no cure.

They'll have their inspirations, Vidal or Nicky Clarke

but my hairdressing hero, is someone much more dark.

To me his skills are legendary, but you may find it odd

The greatest barber of them all, my hero Sweeny Todd!

Of course I'd never kill my clients, I'd just shave them total bald

Then I'd be known as  Derek Keene, Demon Barber of Cumbernauld


Submitted: May 17, 2011

© Copyright 2022 bigderekkeene. All rights reserved.

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