The Park Bench

The small Chinese boy sat on the bench with a scowl on his face. The large black man beside him whistled a cheerful tune and tapped his fingers on his knee, staring blatantly at the jet black crop of hair atop the boy's plump head.

"That's a mighty fine clumpa' hair you got growing up dere boy", the man said cheerfully, pulling a large pair of barber scissors from the pocket of his brown trousers. "Mind if I take me a bit of dat dere black gold?"

"I don't know if I want that", the lad replied, shifting in the seat nervously. "Why you want to take my hair?"

"Dat be none of yo' concern," the enormous lout blurted in an increasingly irritated voice. He stood up and circled the bench until he was standing directly behind where the youngster was seated. With one powerful hand, the beast steadied the boy's head and began to voraciously snip large clumps of black hair from his scalp.

"Why you cut hair?" the youth asked curiously.

"Boy, lemme tell ya somethin' my daddy tole me when I was yo' age," the beast babbled, saliva exploding from his bloated lips, "He say, dat if my brains be dynamite, I wouldn't have nuff ta blow my damn nose. Then he'd beat me clean inta next Tuesday with his digging shovel."

He lopped the last chunk of thick black hair from the rascal's bulbous head and scooped up the pile from the ground beneath him. Then, he placed the clump of hair clippings atop his own shiny bald scalp.

"Da ol' lady is sho nuff gonna give me one helluva dick suckin' when she see dis'," the large African-American bellowed noisily. And with that, he hitched up his suspenders and trotted off down the dirt path into the forest, whistling an unrecognizable melody and snapping his fingers as he went.

The oriental youngster sat on the bench with a scowl on his face, his new botched haircut casting a ridiculous shadow onto the ground in front of him. The sunlight shone off the visible portions of his scalp, casting a beautiful glare onto the leaves of the massive forest oak trees.