"Because I need to cut my hair... right now." I say.
"Don't you want to help me cut it?" I ask.
"No." He replies.
"Why not?!" I cry.
"Because... I don't want to be responsible for it looking bad." He explains.
"But I don't care. It can't look worse. I look like I have a Russian fur hat strapped to the back of my neck. Don't you think you can cut a straight line?" I urge.
"It's curly so you can't really mess it up... you won't be able to tell." I beg
"I guess." He grumbles.
"Okay, just come with me and I'll show you... it's going to be easy." I tell him.
15 minutes later.... buh bye mullet
