Norris Cole slept soundly in his bed. So deep was his sleep that even a clumsy, noisy intruder invading his bedroom did not cause him to stir…
Iman Shumpert furtively shined a dim flashlight at Norris’ head. When the beam of light caught Norris’ hair, Iman sighed with a mixture of pleasure and frustration and ran his hand over his own hair. “I need it…” he moaned.
Reaching into his pocket, Iman pulled out a small pair of scissors and a glue stick stolen from a local elementary school. Leaning over the bed but being careful not to place any weight on it, lest he wake up his sleeping victim, Iman took a tentative snip of Norris’ flattop. The metallic ting of the scissors seemed, to Iman’s ears, to be the volume of a jet taking flight. But when the first clump of hair was in his palm, he knew there was no turning back.
Uncapping the glue stick, Iman dabbed the newly-acquired hair with it and attached it to his own head. Now, he would have a healthy, full-looking flattop, and Norris’ would be diminished and emasculated. With Norris’ snores acting as a background to his work, Iman intently continued to remove hair, clump by clump, from Norris’ head.
After thirty minutes, most of the easily-accessible hair had been removed, and Iman’s job as an amateur hairstylist was complete. He desperately wanted to roll Norris onto his stomach so that more of his head would be in reach of the scissors, but knew that he could not risk his victim waking up. Instead, he put away his tools and departed as noisily as he had arrived.
—
Norris woke up from his sleep and immediately noticed that his head felt too light. Walking over to the mirror on his dresser, he was annoyed to see that most of his flattop had been crudely hacked off sometime during the night. “Not again…”