Something Else

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I flinch as he places the blade to my throat. Slowly he slides it along, tearing at the hair follicles, rasping my skin. A blade so jagged it mimics the surrounding Karst landscape.

I had hesitated a moment too long.

Haircut over, I should have jumped right out of the chair. Instead, I found myself thrust backwards, shaving foam of sorts slapped onto my face and with a hair clipper stuck up my ears and up my nose. This was novel. The myriad of Chinese tourists taking pictures as they passed by certainly seemed to think so.

Suddenly he attacks my arms with scores of karate-like chops. My muscles tighten then relax. My neck is molested like a piece of dough, my scalp punctuated like soil by a farmer seeding crops and my face received an Elmer Fudd, Bugs Bunny delivered cartoon style work out.

Thirty minutes seem to drag on forever.

This time I don't hesitate. I pay the equivalent of a kebab back home, receive a couple of oranges I believe were to bribe me so that I don't report him to the police for torture and gain an experience like no other.

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