8914. MUSTAFA AT THE BARBER SHOP

MUSTAFA AT THE 

BARBER SHOP

There were candy wrappers blowing

around out front, and two young girls

had just strolled in. They didn't belong.

You knew that  - this was one of those

new sorts of men's haircutting places,

with the funny, man-cave names like

'Another Cut', or 'Made Men', or

'Clip Jobs.' No meaning, just a

posture; where men will be tough

and boys will be men. All that and in

an instant. The place was crowded,

like a gym guy's sauna. It was pretty 

obvious what was going on. No matter,

I guess you just pay more for the extras.

-

The guy Mustafa was cutting; he eyed

me watching. I wasn't a customer, 

just outside by the liquor store 

doorway. One of those movies like

'Trading Places' or '48 Hours' or

something where for Eddie Murphy

getting some 'trim' meant getting laid.

Too much complication, all that, for

me, and it adds a whole other level

to 'Made Men' as well. I don't need.

-

When he came out for a smoke, I

said, 'Tell me something, 'Stafa; how

you running this place with a good

conscience?' He smirked, and said

slyly, 'It's not what you do, my friend;

you see, it's more how you do it. I

could burn down the woods, but

you'd never find the match.'