Ooops ---- FREE Chicken Here!
Ooops ---- FREE Chicken Here!
The day was perfect, bright, sunny, gusty an apropos for an outing which I must say ended up in a dilemma of being slaughtered like a chicken or a hallucinating like a rooster to be alive after a close rooster fight. This story of mine is called "chickens are cooked for FREE". As the name indicated it's an ante of an near miss or I must say a near breakthrough, escape may be .The day was fine, bright and sunny and Mr. rooster, that's off course me , ; tucked my shirt in walked out of my hallway to the ,garden, dreaming as a King of world getting ready for a morning walk, So was I , I clubbed on my shades took my bike and was on my way to one of the costliest of the saloon in suburbs.
The place was a chain of India's most famous hair stylist, taking a great pride to be thereI was filled with an extra unmfff factor , rather I must say the bait was ready to be slaughtered yet another time , as always , its quarterly affair for it to prepare for four months , grow hair till nose length , taking great care of them with every wash, oiling them regularly for the D day perfect look I must say. Today was that exclusive Day yet its been said by great men keep your bad times on back of your grey matter and move on to new endeavors ,living up-to it I found myself one.
The shopkeeper was a living God on earth, wearing a long loose white T with the picture of techno-colored, the great mighty monkey god of India, Hanuman . With long cowboy shoes , he thought himself to be an Icon all by itself. I was admiring he is a Sage, a Hippie, an Indian cowboy or the most likely a Barber; something which is destined to be, at-least in this holly world.
The place was dimly lit of ,with color combination of florescent greens, yellows, and
;blues; with a Red-bull refrigerator in a corner, to a CHECZ's and Castro's posters on the wall. For a second I though I was in a Rave party or something, and then there were three chambers, like a new age infirmary cells with plush chairs and half a meter glasses and a basin in front of them. My grey matter was struck with twin thoughts at a time, each one trying to pop out first. Its an electric chair for electrocutions of baits , No blood deaths of mid 19th century and second on just popped to tell me that it's a butcher's platform for the bait and basin is for drawing of the blood from neck without any mess........
Almost fainting to the fits of the hallucination I was going through I was woken up by the CAN of red-bull offered by our very known the cowboy. He told me to relax and offered a seat in one of the cells and promised he would be there in a minute with his arsenal (scissors waist belt and a color pallet ). The music was perfect for the scene, Llinkin Parkwas singing "In the End" I just said " I tried so hard- but it does matter... I intentionally changed the lyrics here if you see, because I couldn't refuse my heart to feel the heavy thunder of something big coming, a tornado, up on this bright sunny day L
"So it Begin" -were the words which I said to myself (courtesy - Aragon, LOTR) as he started using his scissors like a butcher slaughtering the poor roosters one after another feather by feather, leg by leg. I could only see my hair (long and dear ones) falling like a pack of cards around my chair and cloak. The sizzling voices of two necks of scissors were as if casting spells of black magic over a bait to please the dark lord offering him a 24 year old, decently smart lad.
Chopped like a crook from the west, although technically I was looking much handsome form what I was, but my sunken heart couldn't recognize the feeling of being happy. He was still gulping the Red-bull to earn some energy within. Then was the ,time, the time to get ,colored, not me of course pals . I want to have my hair colored because pollution and adulterated shampoos have taken a toll on them and converted them to widow's piece of shiny white cloth. L . He was mixing the Plum shaded L-Oreal one, in his pallet as if preparing a chicken marinate for barbeque. He started applying delicately and precisely like a chef of an elite hotel.
The process took another 45 ,minutes, with ceremonial ending with a conditioner & hair wash , like an barbeque oil to cook a marinated chicken. My heart accolades me that am no longer an endorser for widow's white magic. But the cherry on the cake was left to my utter surprise. The cowboy turned up with a broad 32 out smile of ,his, and lifting up his long shiny brown hair line up. He gave me an envelop with my bill in it. What happened after that ,I think you guys can imagine with the description of the day I gave you in the very first Para above here.
Words such as slaughtered rooster and barbequed chicken were hovering around my head. Allthe way I drove back to my home with a sunken heart, an withered pocket and a so called Dude look, It had cost me an heavenly amount to get that look of mine, It was a close shave of returning back alive form that dungeon were baboons turn into models and people like me into an free chicken J . I hope this experience lasts a little longer than a quarter year and the quarterly affair doesn't repeat this time like the way it did. How was I suppose to know they cook for FREE for chickens like Me.
How was I supposed to know they cook for FREE" : S.D