|Cyrus T. Gentle|
Why don't ya come inside and take a seat. We'll fix yer gender right quick. Come on now son... Come on inside, I ain'ta bitecha one bit. You are makin' an embarassment of yourself son. What you think people'r gonna say when they see's me, a respectable elder of this here fine town, chattin' it up with a lil' girly like some weirdo? You gonna ruin my reputation son! Now get in here and be barbered!
You don't want a haircut? But it's all uh,... bushy.... you know... like a girly. ...... You don't want to cut it because it's yer look? .... One Direction? What's a One Direction? .... Harry Styles? Son, whoever this Harry Styles is, she must be one hideous fuck. Now let me slap yer scalp with a classic, a Bogart or a Cary Grant.. Something witha' discernible hairline.
Yer mom likes yer hair you say? Well, I bet yer dad likes men. You have intensely assholelish lookin' hair there son. Now come inside before I start to lose my temper and I pound fifty shades of gay into yer puckered little giny! .... What did you say ya lil' sumbitch!? What!!? I'ma' the one who's confused about my sexuality!? ME!? Come ere' ya lil' shit taster! I'lla' crush ya'! Crush ya and kiss yer shameful face!! You run like a girly!
Hey you Fatty! Yeah you, the big fat fuck! You wanna haircut!?