Dylan got settled in the barber’s chair as his aunt went to the side room to get her blonde hair dyed pink. She had picked him up early this morning. The plan was to get haircuts, shop for cool T-shirts, and then eat lunch at the new pizzeria on Bedford Avenue.
“Happy Veteran’s Day,” the 10-year-old said as the barber adjusted the height of the seat.
“What’s so happy about it?”
The barber looked like a character in one of those old movies Dylan’s aunt liked to watch. With his white hair, wispy mustache, and weary black eyes, he might have been the saloon keeper who served tequila to the outlaws just after they had gotten into town.
“They have a parade,” Dylan said. “A big parade in Manhattan.”
The barber tied a strip of scratchy white paper around Dylan’s neck.
“A bunch of killers marching down Broadway,” he said.
Read more at: http://friggmagazine.com/issuefortynine/fiction/fishbane/world.htm
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