Falcon Lady

My mom and I walk into a salon, keeping in mind we have never been to before, and ask for the lady whom we had talked to on the phone. Two ladies sitting and chatting on a nicely fluffed cushion stopped long enough to notice us and answer our question before they were right back at it again. My eyes drifted off into the direction the one had pointed in through the door way. The moment of truth was about to arrive and I was feeling a littler nervous.

 Hair cuts are no big thing, as long as the person cutting your hair knows what in the world they're doing. The place was nice, I had to admit. The decor looked like a big chunk of gold came in and threw up everywhere though, because everything was in some kind of gold and I knew it couldn't have been the real kind. Little chandeliers hung from the ceiling, rugs on the floor, fat cushioned chairs, and a small flat screen television in the corner. Only the two ladies were in the front room I noticed though, and wondered why there wasn't more.

 Through the door way we fixed our eyes on our hairdresser for the day. She was in her mid to late 50's and wore thick glasses that lay just below some crazy red-ish brown hair. She smiled and we stated why were there and she pointed to a couple of seats in the corner. My nerves seemed to fade a little as I watched her work on her present customer who seemed to be a regular by the way they chatted, but when they got done she didn't clean up, sweep, or anything. Ten minutes later I was in "the hot seat" and relaxed while she did her business. Facing my mom, while they conversed for a few seconds the woman walks over in a floating manner and reaches for my hair, stabbing me with her long finger nails in the neck. ouch. I blow it off and hope this isn't going to be a non-stop hacking spree at my skin as she proceeds on. 

 Her sharp talon like claws she called finger nails constantly scratched at my skin as she worked, while the comb she ran across my scalp was dug in a little too hard. She combed and I could feel hair being plucked from my scalp and became worried I wouldn't have any hair left when she got done. Five minutes later, she has trimmed and shaped as I had asked, whipping me around in the spinney chair and jerking the button on "cape" from around my neck. My mother had seen this and look a little worried as her fate lay before her. I watched as some style was being put into my moms hair and how the falcon lady's claws stroked the side of her face again and again, and the third time causing some hard squinting by my mother. An apology, and some more "fluffing" before the woman ended the torture. She bragged of her experience and cackled her shrekey laugh in delight. When all was said and done we looked the same as when we had first come in, only my mother's hair had been styled a little more than before.

 Hair still in tact, faces still whole, and only a little chunk from our wallet missing we left swearing never to return again.

 On the way home we joked about the "falcon lady" and decided that even though we were desperate for a hair cut this time, we would cut our hair ourselves if we had to next time (if in serious need) before we went back there.

"It is always good to try new things, and sometimes things are good to only try once."- unknown