The mind readers

My mother used to call me handy when I was a kid. Not because I’m good with nails and a hammer. No, it was because every time I asked a question I also supplied the answer myself. I prefer calling it thinking out loud. Others might think I’m crazy. I was always the one with a vivid imagination, which is why I’m not always on this planet. ‘Think happy thoughts, Peter,’ Wendy said. And aren’t happy thought always suppose to show on your face? If everybody would be thinking happy thoughts this world would be a much happier place.

My friend Levine likes to show off, what I like to call, his hair skills. His hair is always drooping down his back and falling over his shoulders like a river of shiny fragile waves. I still win when it comes to length and probably even thickness but his hair is blond. Like angel locks that were made to reflect the sun on the earth. And he knows it.

‘So,’ he says while flicking back his golden angel hair, ‘I hear you are looking for a ‘new challenge’. So the question really is: are you flexible enough?’
‘Well, I bend over backwards as they say, at my last job and I no longer work there. So,’ and now I flick my dark wavy locks over my shoulder, ‘I think that flexibility is highly overrated just because it is mentioned in every job opening. But I will tell you, however, that the field that I work in has absolutely no more secrets for me and I am an enthusiastic individual and with a real hands-on mentality.’

He lifts up his hair and then lets it fall. His hair comes down like drops from the Trevi fountain of Italy. ‘I wouldn’t hire you.’
‘No? I’m surprised. Have you not noticed that I am sure to be an integral cog in your organisation?’ I am not touching my hair. I cannot compete with a holy fountain. He laughs.
‘No, I have not noticed at all.’
‘How so?’
‘Because you have not yet supplied me with your absolute best quality, the one that surpasses all other qualities, the one that makes all other qualities obsolete.’
‘Oh, and I have great hair.’
‘Now you’re hired.’
‘As what? A hairdresser?’ What ever happened to Clara, I suddenly wonder. And I take a quick glance out the window. Wasn’t she also looking for a ‘new challenge’?
‘You know Clara found her new job even before the old one was out the window.’ I blink and I don’t know whether I blink because I just received an answer to my thoughts or because of this lucky bastard who can now still freely pay her bills and has the protection of a little something called money, probably one of the worst inventions humankind has ever made.

‘Wow. Lucky her.’ If only I had half her luck. Why not give that illustrator thing a try?
‘You still draw?’
‘Huh?’ I say. And I spontaneously sweep my hair in the air like laundry in the wind. ‘Yeah, a little.’
‘Why not take on this challenge and use this hands-on mentality to become an integral cog in your own organisation?’ With a side kick of the head, he moves over his goldie locks from front ‘till back.
‘Okay, seriously, you have got to stop with the hair skills. People are beginning to think I’m sitting here with a mental person who has either a deformity of his vertebra or a series of ticks that happened to go well with his angelic hair.’
‘You think I have hair skills?’
‘Well, yes, but don’t flatter yourself…’
‘I do flatter myself. I cannot but flatter myself. I have never been so flattered in my life. This is the biggest compliment anyone has ever given me.’ He holds his hair like a fresh new mother with her newborn baby.

Gosh, I would just love to go surfing right now. Just wash all that stress away and leave it to swim in that big wide ocean, plenty of room there for a little human stress.
‘Wanna go surfing?’ he says. My eyes ball like inflatable balloons. ‘What? That’ll help you get rid of your stress. Plus, it helps me maintain the angelic status of my hair.’
‘I am becoming a hairdresser and am shaving the angels off of your head and will donate all of it to the people with no hair cause.’ But first we surf.
‘But first we surf.’

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