Confessions of a Rogue Hairstylist
March 12, 2015 • 847 views
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The problem wasn’t that Arthur was splashing water over my suit, or that he was writhing all over the equipment, or even that he was tousling up my hair. The problem was that he was moving out of frame. I was hoping to get some usable footage out of this and now all I’d get was the audio. This depressed me because I’d put a lot of work into this endeavor.
I mean, have you ever sat down and taken an hour or two to think about how difficult it would be to give an octopus a haircut? I mean they don’t even have a hair to cut. You just have to superglue a toupe to the octopus before you even have any hair to work with. And don’t even get me started on tentacles — after all, they do suck.
So this is my job: giving non-voluntary haircuts to wild animals.
Don’t take that the wrong way, no one pays me to do it. I guess it’s more of a hobby. I would rob the animals after I cut their hair so I could make some money out of it, but they rarely keep cash on them. I did get a debit card from a moose once, though. And I did save 15% or more on car insurance by threatening an annoyingly British Gecko.
I’ve been posting videos of my best work on Youtube recently and I’ve been getting some positive feedback from respected critics. One jellolover82 called the video of me giving a lobster a buzz cut “revolting” and iheartmrspock described my series about visiting a petting zoo as “despicable on a number of levels.” Clearly, these comments are signs of how jealous the critics are of my success in the competitive industry of involuntary animal hair styling.
But, back to Arthur. He seemed to be about to pass out when I noticed that one of the Aquarium’s guards was marching up behind me. He started screaming something at me but I couldn’t make out what (I have very bad hearing due to a rhinoceros related laundry folding accident).
I decided that he must have been congratulating me on my excellent form and grip and then continued focusing on Arthur the octopus — Octopi are vain and get whiny when you don’t shower them with affection.
Then the guard moved closer and started congratulating me very hard with his fists. He congratulated me so thoroughly that I accrued quite an impressive collection of bruises.
My mother always taught me to be polite, so I handed him the octopus and my electric razor to give him a chance to join in. However, he seemed more interested in calling the police with his phone. He must have been inviting them to come watch me perform — how kind!