THE ROAD: How to Order a Haircut

I told the young barber I wanted a fade, but not some metro slick fade that includes a free eyebrow wax; no, I told him, "Give me  a fade that looks like they just plucked me out of Kansas to go kill Krauts; I want a fade that looks good with a forty-five not a glock.  I want the kind of fade that orders t-bone not tuna; the kind of hard luck fade that could be seen in a Dodge on a back road on a summer night in 1965 while Eve of Destruction plays on the radio.  The kind of fade they gave Elvis before shipping him to Germany.  The kind of fade that drinks bottles of Pepsi while polishing a shotgun.  A fade that keeps a couple Heath bars in the glove compartment.  The kind of fade that takes three minutes to buzz, and only that long because you want to be paid.  A Hank Williams Sr. fade.  A 1950's Republican fade.  A railroad worker fade.  A fade that wants a moustache as accompaniment.  A fade that thinks porno theaters are an exceptable date like Travis Bickle.  A fade that only swims in rivers.  A fade that eats onions.  A fade that feels the History Channel doesn't have enough shows about mining.  A fade that thinks kids is womens' business."