Chapter Six Hundred and Seventy-one - Out of the mouths of babes (part one)
Chapter Six Hundred and Seventy-one - Out of the mouths of babes (part three)

Chapter Six Hundred and Seventy-one - Out of the mouths of babes (part two)

CHAPTER SIX HUNDRED and SEVENTY-ONE

(part two)

After a few minutes, she leaned to the side.

“What’s going on?” Sandy asked.

“It has to do with. . .” Holmes caught Sandy’s eyes in the mirror, “. . .you-know-who.”

Sandy nodded.

“Do you want to leave this long or cut it?” Sandy asked. “Your dad said something about college interviews?”

“No one cares about my hair,” Holmes said. “He just wants me to cut it. He thinks I look like I’m a hippie.”

“What do you want?” Sandy asked.

The boy thought for a long moment before saying.

“You can tell me,” Sandy said.

“I think he’s right, but I don’t want him to win,” Holmes said.

“Fair enough,” Sandy said. “Why don’t we split the difference? We can take most of this length off so it looks a little more professional. You can slick it back or come let me do it when you have your interviews.”

“Sounds perfect!” Holmes said.

“Highlights?” Sandy asked. “Your brother had purple this time.”

“I don’t know,” Holmes said. “You think it will make me more attractive to. . . you know, those guys?”

“Pedophiles?” Sandy asked. She shook her head. Intentionally putting her hand over the top of his shoulder to ground him, she said, “No. This is your body. This is your hair. You can do what you want with it. And if anyone gives you any trouble, what do you do?”

“I call Auntie Alex,” Holmes said with a nod. “Anywhere in the world and she’ll come home and kick their ass so hard they’ll wish they didn’t have an ass.”

Sandy laughed.

“That sounds like Alex,” Sandy said. “Why don’t you let me do this? I think you’ll be pleased.”

Holmes nodded, and Sandy got to work.

“You can talk while I work,” Sandy said.

“Oh, right,” Holmes said. He swallowed hard. “When I lived with dickface. . . Do you mind if I use that word? It’s kind of a swear word.”

“I’ve heard worse,” Sandy said with a laugh.

“Oh, okay,” Holmes said. “Mom and me and Hermes lived with dickface. He wanted so bad to be as smart as my dad, you know, Troy?”

“I do know your father,” Sandy said.

“Right,” Holmes said. “Okay. The only way he could be smart like my dad was to make all of us do the work. Because he was lazy as fuck.”

“What do you mean?” Sandy asked never taking her eyes off his hair.

“I mean, well, okay. . .” Holmes scowled. “You won’t make fun of me?”

“I would never make fun of you,” Sandy said.

“Well, I’m kinda smart too,” Holmes said. “I mean, Hermes is too, but he’s, you know, a different kind of smart from me and dad.”

“Hermes has the soul of an artist,” Sandy said.

“With the mind of a genius,” Holmes said with a grin. “Dad thinks that he’s going to be an architect, but I think he’ll do something literary like write books or poems or maybe paint. He did some painting with Mike when we were there. It’s really good. Oh, I shouldn’t have told you. That was a secret.”

“What’s going on?” Sandy asked.

“It has to do with. . .” Holmes caught Sandy’s eyes in the mirror, “. . .you-know-who.”

Sandy nodded.

“Do you want to leave this long or cut it?” Sandy asked. “Your dad said something about college interviews?”

“No one cares about my hair,” Holmes said. “He just wants me to cut it. He thinks I look like I’m a hippie.”

“What do you want?” Sandy asked.

The boy thought for a long moment before saying.

“You can tell me,” Sandy said.

“I think he’s right, but I don’t want him to win,” Holmes said.

“Fair enough,” Sandy said. “Why don’t we split the difference? We can take most of this length off so it looks a little more professional. You can slick it back or come let me do it when you have your interviews.”

“Sounds perfect!” Holmes said.

“Highlights?” Sandy asked. “Your brother had purple this time.”

“I don’t know,” Holmes said. “You think it will make me more attractive to. . . you know, those guys?”

“Pedophiles?” Sandy asked. She shook her head. Intentionally putting her hand over the top of his shoulder to ground him, she said, “No. This is your body. This is your hair. You can do what you want with it. And if anyone gives you any trouble, what do you do?”

“I call Auntie Alex,” Holmes said with a nod. “Anywhere in the world and she’ll come home and kick their ass so hard they’ll wish they didn’t have an ass.”

Sandy laughed.

“That sounds like Alex,” Sandy said. “Why don’t you let me do this? I think you’ll be pleased.”

Holmes nodded, and Sandy got to work.

“You can talk while I work,” Sandy said.

“Oh, right,” Holmes said. He swallowed hard. “When I lived with dickface. . . Do you mind if I use that word? It’s kind of a swear word.”

“I’ve heard worse,” Sandy said with a laugh.

“Oh, okay,” Holmes said. “Mom and me and Hermes lived with dickface. He wanted so bad to be as smart as my dad, you know, Troy?”

“I do know your father,” Sandy said.

“Right,” Holmes said. “Okay. The only way he could be smart like my dad was to make all of us do the work. Because he was lazy as fuck.”

“What do you mean?” Sandy asked never taking her eyes off his hair.

“I mean, well, okay. . .” Holmes scowled. “You won’t make fun of me?”

“I would never make fun of you,” Sandy said.

“Well, I’m kinda smart too,” Holmes said. “I mean, Hermes is too, but he’s, you know, a different kind of smart from me and dad.”

“Hermes has the soul of an artist,” Sandy said.

“With the mind of a genius,” Holmes said with a grin. “Dad thinks that he’s going to be an architect, but I think he’ll do something literary like write books or poems or maybe paint. He did some painting with Mike when we were there. It’s really good. Oh, I shouldn’t have told you. That was a secret.”

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow...

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