“What do you think?” he sez, worried-like.
“Same as you,” I shrug. “We sure can’t take no month gettin’ trained if we’re gonna by any help upsettin’ the regular troops.”
“That’s for sure,” he nods. “Looks like we’re gonna have to push these recruits a little ourselves to be sure they pick up this training in doublequick time.”
This realization puts my mood at an all-time low. It was bad enough that I was gonna have to do time as a soldier-type, but now I was gonna have to play nursemaid and coach to a bunch of raw recruits as well!
Chapter Three;
“Just a little off the top!”
A. BOLEYN
THE HAIRCUT TURNED out even more ghastly than I had feared in my worst nightmare-type dreams. I would be tempted to lay in wait and inflict a little instructional-type revenge upon the individual what laid said haircut on me, but it would probably do no good as he was obviously brain damaged at birth and can’t help bein’ like he is. Instead, I should be thankful that society has found a place for a person what has only learned one style of haircut where he can serve a useful purpose. Further, I suppose it is only logical that that place is in the army, where his “customers” have no choice but to put up with whatever haircut they are given. My only puzzlement is where they managed to find an entire room full of mental deficients who have all only learned the same haircut.
The haircut under discussion is unique in its lack of imagination and style, consistin’ of simply removin’ as much hair from the victim as possible through the vigorous application of a pair of clippers. If they lowered their aim another quarter inch or so, the job would qualify as a scalpin’ rather than as a haircut. Now, I have nothin’ against baldness, and know a couple hard-type wiseguys in the Mob what shave their heads to look especially mean. What we ended up with, however, was not enough hair to look stylish, but too much to look tough.