By Tom Allman
Ferdinand was an excellent dancer; at least that’s what his Mother had told him. Around and around they would spin in the front parlor to some old Les Brown records. He begged her to allow him to meet a real girl.
Sheltered but smart, Ferdinand believed that his mother had only the best of intentions. Ferdinand’s Mother knew that if her boy ever held or smelled a sweet young girl he’d be gone lickety split. This Saturday’s Sadie Hawkins Dance at the Grange Hall would be a perfect opportunity for her to make sure that never happened.
With his shoes polished and his dead father’s suit hanging nearby he readied himself for the final touch. Smiling (on the inside) his mother lowered a bowl onto his head. Clickity Clack went the scissors and his dreams; it was the Birth Control Haircut.