The Impressionable Mr. Felton

Man enters Herr Doktor's office.

"Yes?" asks Doctor, quite the inquisitive little man.

"Good morning, dear doc, I'm Richard Felton, Richard Felton I am. I just had an idea, a fine idea if I may say so."

"Good morning sir, how may I help you?"

"You see, doc, I was at the barbers' today, just getting the old snippity-snip! I find it quite relaxing. It's all in the barber's hands. You know him? Butch the barber? Quite the sturdy old man, old Butch is. My old pappy saw him all his life. And my grandpappy before him. My grandpappy died at his hands. That is, not to imply old Butch had anything to do with it. He was oiling the old man's scalp, going about with his daily shave, when the old badger collapsed. Distraught he was, old Butch. Not me pappy though, he was fine and dandy, delighted to have bequeathed unto him, a happy lump sum. You see, he loved old Butch."

"I see"

"Now Butch has a fine moustache, bushy and robust, not bristly around the edges as you'd see many an unkempt gentleman sporting. Well-maintained, that's the word I'm looking for. Now dear Butch also has at his disposal, a very effective collection of unctions and perfumes. l'odeur des chats was personally favoured by me pappy. A man of eclectic taste, he was. I've never nurtured a liking for these foreign perfumes, as did me pappy, and me brother Triggs. Especially now, since me pappy kicked the bucket this morning while poor Butch stood behind massaging his bare scalp."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Felton, my sincere condolences"

"A terrible shock indeed. So I took the seat, you see I was next in line, and me pappy, bless him, did not chance a proper trim, and left poor Butch five shillings short. Saddened he was, but approached the chair dutifully upon my request. You see, my head of hair had grown quite unruly, warranted a trim. So snippity-snip-snip! You like this new style? It's the latest fashion I'm told."

"Very snazzy if I may say so"

"You may, good sir. You know what I like especially about the barbers'? It's the mirrors. Mirrors here, mirrors there, reflections everywhere. How often do you have the time to just gaze at yourself for the better half of an hour? Not often, not often at all. It occurs to me that I think best, not on my feet( I was afflicted with a bout of rickets when I was young and have never been sturdy on my feet), but on my bottom, seated afront the saloon mirror. There's something mildly comforting about the sound of snipping blades behind the ears. You should try it."

"I assure you I will"

"And it occurred to me, sir, that I may grow bald like me pappy and me grandpappy before him and my already balding brother Triggs. It's almost an eventuality, as it were. Runs in the gene. Also, you might have noticed, I have a rather weak chin. It runs in the gene. Not a strong or proud chin like the King, no chance of a dimple. I've always harboured a secret liking for a chin dimple. But mine, you see, is rather weak and morose. So I looked at dear Butch and it struck me! Sheer genius I tell you. What if, what if, I say there were a way to get the hair off me head and have it pasted on my lip. It'll hold, I assure you, I've always had a stiff upper lip. Dear Butch would make a fine moustache out of it. What's more, it would divert attention from me chin. People are always unimpressed by the size of my chin. I'd considered sporting a double-chin like the Queen, but that just isn't the same. Do you think such a thing is possible?"

"Might I enquire as to what young sir's age might be?"

"What the devil has that to do with anything?"

"There's a minimum age limit for surgery, sir"

"Oh, in that case, I'm fourteen"

"Here are the forms. Sign here please."