let me tell you

Let me begin by telling you the story about Al. He lives two doors down from us. He's a really nice fellow in his fifties, who lives alone and is always ready to lend a helping hand. He loves his leaf blower and his beer. Al has always put up the most extreme Christmas decorations on his huge tree in the front yard. But we wait to see what will happen this year, because the tree was just cut down a week ago. The city deemed it too old and sick to leave standing. Sadly. But that's another story. Al is tall and skinny and sports what I could describe as the Kim Mitchell look. You know, the long thin hair, the trucker's cap (with mesh in the back and in some hideous colour), aviator's glasses, a well worn t-shirt, old leather jacket or windbreaker, jeans... you get the picture? A few days ago I decided that it was time to give Kaspar a hair cut. His hair had grown long enough to pull into a mini pony tail and was bothering his vision in the front. What did he reply? "No! I want to grow my hair like Al's!!!" Who was I to argue? He knew what he wanted. We had to come to some sort of a compromise. So, Kaspar ended up with a mullet. I think the "mullet" style runs in his blood. His dad had a mullet for years, after all.