Thursday, October 30, 2014

Readier Than a Proposed Handbasket Factory

I think Hick is almost ready to have a rootin'-tootin' ribbon cuttin' for his Little Barbershop of Horrors. He's got four walls now. Okay. He always had four walls, even back when this structure was supposed to be a hay shed. But now he has four walls decorated on the inside.

You've already seen Wall 1, it of the no-fireplace mantel and baseball memorabilia. Now Hick has added two chairs. I suppose that's his waiting area. Notice that he is starting out slowly. Just taking the overflow from his Saturday barbershop frequented by bald men who sit around chewing the fat and rabble-rousing when an impromptu road rage fight finds its way onto the parking lot.

Next, he has Wall 2, the lighter and spoon wall, which I hope does not speak toward any strange drug-preparation ritual. I doubt Hick would even know of the uses of spoons and lighters in the drug culture. But avid reader and chock-full-o-culture Val does. Don't ask. A lady reveals nothing. Didn't you retain your lessons from A League of Their Own?

The mirrored wall, or as I fondly call it, Wall 3, reflects that St. Louis Cardinal mantel. I suppose that mirror came from an auction, or else from my grandma's house. Looks like this is where Hick will park his barber chair, with counter space for his tresses-trimming accouterments. Perhaps those are cubbies for cups for customers' shaving cream. Not sure about that. But very sure that Hick has never read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, so this is not an ode to Johnny Nolan's shaving mug.

And now for Wall 4, my personal favorite, the fisherman's wall. I am especially partial to those fishing lures hanging near the ceiling, some of which may be my grandpa's and my dad's. Or else they are just auction baubles with the audacity to give me a feel-good vibe. Watch out! Looks like we've got a flying fish, ready to swoop in and pluck Hick off that ladder if he has a spell of vertigo.

That's the grand tour. I'll let you know when the city officials arrive for the ribbon cutting. Maybe Hick will sell hot dogs off Gassy G, and find an old earthenware jug he can fill with lemonade so folks can take a pull, a snort, a swig...and pretend it's moonshine. I'm not going to push that issue. Hick brought home some real moonshine from Asheville, North Carolina. Yep. Carried it right on and right off the plane in a 20 oz. Mountain Dew bottle. That was before the strict regulations. The Little Barbershop of Horrors has no liquor license, so it will serve no alcoholic beverages.

I think the next order of not-yet-business if for Hick to scout those auctions for a
"We're Open!" sign.


  1. OMG! It is beautiful!! It needs only TV and cable. Oh yeah, and a checkerboard of course.

  2. This place is pretty enough to live in. When will it have plumbing? Or does it already?

  3. One--those chairs are fairly flimsy-looking. I hope Hick's friends are tiny, fragile, creatures...

    Two--there is a sign that proclaims "lingerie." Are Hick and his customers going to frolic around in the Barbershop of Horrors in lady lingerie?

  4. Betcha Better Homes and Gardens calls and wants to feature Hick's home away from home. I say give him a mini fridge and mini microwave and he and the good old boys could hideout. Maybe TV, too.

  5. joeh,
    You will need to go to the BARn loft to feed your checkerboard addiction, where the object of your desire is built into a tabletop. There's a TV in the BARn, too. No cable. Where do your think we live, in civilization? Cable won't come out this far.

    No plumbing. I think you just step out the door and walk around behind the building to the woods. Nature's toilet.

    Sioux, mean like a whole passel of Barney Fifes? Hick's buddies are pretty sturdy. I'd say they might need one chair per cheek.

    Hick probably thought that sign meant to stay linger-y. Or else he's planning to keep that Victoria's Secret catalog for the neighbor that we keep getting in our mailbox.

    Mini fridge? They'll kill their food with their bare hands, and eat it fresh! Drink their moonshine right out of the still. Microwave? Not for this guy. Hick once tried to deep-fry a roadkill turkey over a Coleman camp stove. Let the record show that this endeavor was not a success.