Sunday, June 16, 2002

 

I tried to stop it, but there aint no way to get the blood to stop once you've nicked your ear. Fuck if I know why i decided to take a pair of scissors to my beard, but instead of trimming it up nice-like, I snipped a piece of the lobe clear off, and a nick the size of a noticable comma was left in me. Blood streaming down my neck, and me without a wash cloth, I quickly grabbed a handful of toilet paper. I'd have to stop this before I continued trimming my beard. The shock of seeing my own blood gave me a start enough to want to sit down, and I did.
I held the paper tightly against my neck and ear, letting the stereo playing sea and cake waft lightly into the air like someone smoking a pipe. Later, after the nick healed up, I packed a bowl and smoked a pipe on the patio. This beard and the pipe in hand, I called my pop up to wish him a happy father's day. I hesitated in telling him about the beard, but when I did he laughed. I'll bet you look like me now! he said, and I didnt tell him I had packed a bowl with his favorite brand of tobacco. Dad wears a beard and always has. I can remember when I marvelled at it when I was too young to even ride a bike without training wheels. After eating a big dinner of fried chicken he would comb it out, and lean down into my face asking, 'Is there any food in my beard?'

posted by Hog 11:05 PM