These old locks?

Dear Fellow Burners,

Las Vegas is a city that every man or women should get the chance to experience once in their lifetimes. It is a city that burns and anti-burns simultaneously and therefore a city after my own heart. To give the story below a bit of context when I was in Vegas I fell in love with a stripper – lets call her Maria. Maria told me many things that night. Many wonderful things. She had an acute awareness of all things good, and right and beautiful in the world.

“Handsome,” she said, “Have you ever considered hair modeling?” “Me?” I said confused, “Why no. As a matter of fact I haven’t. Why? Do you think” She interrupted me, “Because you’ve really got some great hair.” She continued to stroke my skull leisurely. Purring like a kitten I said, “These old locks? Well, I guess. I mean, you think I have what it takes?” “Absolutely!” And how could I not take her seriously. She’d never lied to me before. “Another dance?” she asked. “Where do I sign!” I said.

I still maintain, perhaps somewhat naively, (and much to the amusement of fellow burners), that Maria and I, or whatever her name was, shared something special that night. I wasn’t just another client, and she wasn’t just another hot Vegas stripper.

Anyway that should be enough context for the story below.

Enjoy.

Summer scent was fresh in the air. Energy levels were high and expressions happy. I love summer in New York and what better way to explore the city then on a bike. This would be first priority, so I set off to Soho Bikes to find my two-wheeled companion.

I browsed around the store. Nothing in particular took my fancy. I was becoming despondent. On my way out however I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. There it was. A black and brown Biria. A simple classic street bike. No gaudy gimmicks. No shock absorbers, bells or whistles. Just a comfortable seat, low profile tires, and a bit of character. My interest had not gone unnoticed. The store owner had seen me drooling over the Biria and had swooped over to seal the deal.

“Yes sir. Is there anything I could help you with today?”

"Ah, well I quite like that one. The Biria. How much does that cost?”

"Yes sir, a mighty fine choice indeed. On sale in fact. The last one of this model. You’ll need to act soon though because today is the last day of the sale, and these have sold like hot cakes. It’s really an anti-burn at that price. He showed me the price tag. It was more than I bargained for. “What happens if I don't have the money right now?" I said. “Well then sir,” he responded,  “I guess you can go and burn!” Oh no I thought. What the hell am I to do. I must have that bike! At which point, another customer interjected and said, “Look boet this is not fuckin Paris, floating down the river Sienne on a Gondola...”

“or some shit.” said the man behind the counter. “Make up your mind.

I looked at the bike again. I caught my reflection glistening in the frame and responded. “Tell you what, we can make a deal. I'll give you $100 dollars and the rest in hair. Imported from Africa you know.” The owner paused for a moment, "Hmmm, well that does seem like some mighty fine hair. Mind if I ruffle my hands through it a little.”

“I’d prefer if you didn't”. I had another look at the gorgeous machine. “Go wild” I said.

The man made claws for hands and suddenly lunged his hands into my thick locks. He shook my head around uncontrollably, sending me flying too and fro. As a result I knocked down one of the bikes creating a domino like effect, sending all the bikes in the shop crashing to the ground. The resultant sound was deafening. Thousands of bells rang off simultaneously reminiscent of a schoolyard at the end of lunch. Out of pure instinct pedestrians on surrounding streets dived into the closest stores. Women and children were tossed aside in the chaos.  A couple of no good hipsters choose to play hooky and stayed outside, smoking casually, cursing the bankers and lawyers who scuttled frantically into the surrounding shops, calling them sellouts and teachers pets. Policemen interrogated the hipsters asking them where their hall passes were.

In amongst all of this I found myself on the ground clutching my head. The owner seeped through the crowd, eyes fixated on my hair, “Its mine” he said, “my precious.” In one last desperate effort he made a lunge across the room. I moved out of the way just in time. His head went crashing against the wall. Fortunately for his sake, it was the same wall, which contained the helmets and consequently only suffered mild concussion. I had to get out of this place.

I scurried out of the store running up the street in search of the closest hair salon. Please, give me a haircut. Make it short. Real Short.

“Sure honey” said the man behind the counter. “But are you sure you want to cut it so short. You really do have great...”

“Just do it!”

A few minutes went by in what seemed like an eternity.

"Well that's it." He paused... “You don't mind if I keep some of this”, he said referring to my hair. “You know just for...”

"Do with it what you will! How much will it be?"

"That will be $100.00."

"What?! $100.00..." I felt faint

"Sir? Sir!!!" I walked out of the shop, into the middle of the empty street as if in some catatonic state. Dropped to my knees, looked up at the skies, tears in my eyes, shouting

"BBBBBBBBBUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!"