They called me from the clipping joint.
Alright already. Got the point.
I sought a trim.
My roots were grim.
What master would I trust, anoint?
My mane’s now overcooked and fried.
My wallet has been diced and dried.
The mirror scares.
Egads. My hairs!
At least, I can contend I tried.
I begged them for a slight retouch.
But it appears they did too much.
A horror flick
Might suit this chick.
But now I’m broke. Can we go Dutch?
c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson
Image:
Theme art – adapted from
public domain image
Still from The Bride of
Frankenstein, 1935
Fun!
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