Hair Trim Ops, postponed

My nephew was supposed to come over last night for a hair cut. I have been trimming his crown for something like, 7-10 years, so it is a rather sacred event. sometimes his mum is there watching, trying not to interfere. meanwhile, i am looking at them for guidance and a little feedback as to how they want skywalker boy to look. when i ask my sister for a clue, she gestures with her hands as if she is a pantomime decopaging a Pleistocene Bust of Cure's Robert Smith. instead of trying to decypher the Air Fu, i craft nephews hair in a manner befitting a lad well on his way to ruling the universe. i am jealous that he is so metropolitan; roaming the BOS with his mates and skating the scene rebel Black. but then i remind myself that the FortePoint channel does harbour some denizen of ill repute: Listos, crackies, and shadow roamers looking to beatDown a lost soul.
i should furnish the boy with a police issue taser. i hear that they save lives.

poot.