Why I Have a Slouching Cheek
My slouching cheek currently acts as an alias so that the barbers can’t find me. They’re looking for some guy that sort of fits my description, but who has longer hair and normal cheeks. So my newly slouching cheek is a disguise; an antibarber, if you will.
Don’t be alarmed. I won’t let it slouch onto your shoulder. My cheek may look lazy and unthinking, but it obeys my every wish and would never make a friend of mine uncomfortable. It knows that most people don’t like to have an unexpected cheek attack, even less than they want to have wadded up tinfoil stuffed into their socks.
(We’ll just forget about Alkino and his odd tinfoil sock obsession.)
Now, I’m telling you this because you seem trustworthy. If you were to turn around and rat me out to the barbers, they could almost certainly find me; after all, how many people are walking around in public with slouching cheeks? So I’m putting my hair, my sheep’s hair, my nose hair, and my foot hair all in your hands. You have the power to end their lives, or the ability to do the right thing and let us live together in peace, happiness, and tranquility for all of eternity.
Maybe I should start coming up with backup disguises and pseudonyms just in case you do turn out to be an informant for the barbershop industry. Maybe I could hunt down and kill a giant ocean sunfish and then wear the sunfish’s corpse as my new disguise. All the barbers would be like, “where’s that guy with the slouching cheek? What’s that? Oh, just some normal guy. What’s that over there? Oh, just a big ocean sunfish walking to the post office. What’s behind that lamp post? Oh, just a pulsating parka of peanut butter, that’s not suspicious at all.”
It’s a brilliant plan. I could get by with my slouching cheek, or with my sunfish disguise. But I’ll be sure not to tell you about the sunfish idea, because you seem to be the kind of person who reveals all my secrets to the barbers. Shame on you!