ord hair

Casually walking past the rows of shops, as I took quick glances at people who walk hastily past me. Wondering where they are rushing to, when it's a friday night. Just as I was ruminating deep in my thoughts, a voice from the side of a shop disrupted my train of thoughts.
"How about a haircut, boy?" said the man, who was dressed up, unfortunately, like a gay. Of course, his voice didn't contradict that fact.
Surprised at how he knew I was going for a haircut, I turned back to him and asked for the price. Reasonably cheap, I thought, as I entered the shop, led by the gay.
The shop was dimly lighted, and the atmosphere was really fishy.
I sat down on the chair, as he swung the cloth across my chest, and whipped out his scissors and razor.
That was the end of my hair.