Hot or Not: Is Your Mullet Giving Fakemink or Theo Von?

So you decided to get a new haircut. To go for something new, bold. Something punk. Experimental. Sexy (pronounced sexxayy). 

Bet you thought you’d spin around in that barber chair and see Fakemink staring back at you from the mirror. You’d rise from the chair and strut out of Michael’s Custom Cuts, uninhibited, unconcerned. You’d step into the brisk evening, nodding your head at the normies with the taper fade sneaking glances as you swagger by. And your mullet would flutter in the wind, bouncing in its lightness, gleaming under streetlights. A pack of American Spirits would appear in your back pocket. You’d smoke one, breathe it all the way down; you wouldn’t even cough. Mysterious girls in leg warmers and smudgy eyeliner would squeal, blow kisses as you walked past.

Bad news. 

Your chair swivels around. You face the mirror. Theo Von, is that you? The peeling pleather seat swallows you whole. You feel queasy. Have you always been so… greasy? And has that patchy goatee always been there? 

Womp womp.