For in-class writing assignments, we get a topic and 15-20 minutes to write. I usually sit for 5 minutes trying to think up something...
Assignment: Write about an incident in history you'd like to change; rewrite history.
OK ~ let me just state for the record that this is what came to mind. I do not wish it to be true. It's creative writing, people.
I seemed to have a real knack with the scissors. It was cake and pie as soon as the shiny metal touched my strong fingers. I was nimble and quick and made my family quite happy. The true test would come when I could work with real people.
At age 20, I became an apprentice with Hank. He had one of the busiest shops in town; mainly because of his location was so close to the TV station. My job was to sweep, get hot towels, clean the brushes, tend the straps and straight edges. I was quick and thorough, yet still took the time to watch, listen and learn.
One very busy day, Mr. Ed came in unexpectedly. Seems he fiddled with his sideburns, making a mess.
Artie! yelled Hank. You gotta handle Mr. Ed here. He ain't got time to wait. Get ovaheeya!
Thus began a beautiful relationship. I became Mr. Ed's preferred then personal barber. I would make special trips to the station, even his home, as well as tend to him at the shop.
One day, while at the station, Mr. Ed pulled me aside, talked a few minutes then slipped me folded bills. I walked back to the shop to find the four young lads from England waiting for me.
Mr. Ed told us you do a great shave and comb. No cut please. one of the shaggy-haired boys said.
I smiled slyly, sharpening my straight edge razor. And scissors.