Q.Q.'s Barbershop continued


"Stop hitting me," Bernie said. "I'll sue."

"Get away from my shop and my customers with that thing," Q.Q. said, referring to the dead squirrel that Bernie had been gently stroking for the fifteen minutes he had been on the steps. He had been holding it in his other hand while fighting Q.Q., a handicap surely leading to his defeat.

"I need a haircut for my little puppy, Rascal," Bernie said.

"Look, you silly bastard," Q.Q. said, "I've told you. I'm a people barber. No animals, dead or alive."

"Well, that's discrimination," Bernie replied. "And I shall sue. I shall sue you for discrimination and for beating me about the head with that broom of yours."

"Bern," Q.Q. said, "I shouldn't have to tell you that you can't sue a barber for not giving a dead animal a haircut. Case dismissed. Now, scram!"

"You cut my puppy's hair!"

"It's not a puppy, you lunatic," Q.Q. said. "Enough. I'm going inside to tend to my customers. I want you and the rodent out of here."

Q.Q. went back into his shop and apologized to everyone for the scene.

"You know, Q.Q.," Mr. Big said. "My fraternity buddies can rough that guy up if you'd like."

"Who, Bernie? He's just a harmless idiot," Q.Q. said. "So, fraternity boy, eh? You know, I pledged one of those when I was young and sexy. I got the prosthetic leg to prove it. Yeah, they shot and killed both my parents, the bastards. Then they sold me in a slave auction. Five years later I was freed, but everyone I knew had graduated, dropped out, or disappeared mysteriously."

Bernie reappeared in front of the shop and began swinging the squirrel by its tail and shouting, "My puppy needs a haircut!"

With this, Q.Q. called the police as Bernie began threatening passersby with the squirrel and swinging at them violently. When the police arrived Bernie ran into the shop and started picking hair up off the floor and throwing it around, then spraying water and hair spray at the police until he finally fled from the store and down the street, still holding his "puppy." The officers gave chase, amazed at the speed with which Bernie was running, especially while still swinging a dead squirrel. In a panic, Bernie ran into an alley, unaware that it was a dead end. The police slowed down, knowing they had him cornered.

"Bernie," one officer said, "Drop the squirrel and put your hands in the air. We won't hurt you."

"I don't believe you," he said. "And I'm not dropping my puppy."

"Hey," the other officer said, "All you did was cause a little ruckus. You'll just come down to the station with us and be let go, okay?"

"Did you just use the word 'ruckus,' Wilkins?" the first officer replied.

"Shut up," Wilkins said. "Come on, Bernie. Give us your puppy."

"Never," Bernie said. "You will never have him."

Bernie placed his hand on the squirrel's belly and began rubbing it, suddenly bringing it to life. He then leaped onto the squirrel's back as it flew into the sky. The officers could only look up in amazement.

"Fly, little puppy, fly!" Bernie shouted.

"I still want my haircut," the squirrel said.


Kidnapping

Back at the barbershop, Q.Q. was still rambling on about his college days as Mr. Big looked at his watch, wondering what the hell he was doing there. At that moment, a noise started coming from the bathroom. It sounded like a person was in there, but no one had gone in there all day. Q.Q. glanced quickly in the direction of the bathroom a couple of times and looked nervous. Suddenly a man wearing nothing but a paper bag came crashing through the door and fell onto the hairy floor.

"Who the hell is that, Q.Q.?" Mr. Big said.

"It's nobody," Q.Q. replied. "Just some fraternity prank. You know how that is, right Charlie?"

"Fraternity prank?" the naked man said.

"It speaks," Q.Q. said. "He looks crazy. I wouldn't believe a word he says."

"I've been tied up in that disgusting room for 5 days," the man said. "I had to eat soap and Q-Tips to survive."

"I had no idea," Q.Q. said. "I wish you had knocked. I'd have rescued you."

"What the hell is this, Q.Q.?" Spartacus said.

"Nothing."

"And why is he naked?" Mr. Big said.

"Shut up, both of you." Q.Q. said. "Look, if you must know, I was doing some scoliosis tests."

"Isn't scoliosis testing a trifle beyond your training as a barber?" Mr. Big said.

"Oh, that's nice. You all think you're pretty smart, don't you?" Q.Q. said, softly stroking a large clump of shaven hair. "But are you wise enough to name all the members of Sha Na Na?" This was a stalling tactic, and a strange one at that.

"Ooh, I can. I can," Crank said. "There was Bowser, and, uh...Chico...Fleagle, Bingo, Ringo, Zeppo, Rope Man, Diaper Man...and Steve."

"Yes," Q.Q. said. "Well, see if you can answer this one!" He threw the clump of hair at Mr. Big and made a woolly mammoth out of the rest, riding away into the sunset.


The Duel

Bernie and his flying squirrel landed somewhere in the desert in Arizona. He thought about how wonderful his life would be with this newfound power. He could fly anywhere for free. He could even do some shows. He'd be rich.

"Oh, flying puppy," he said. "I love you."

"You'd better watch out there, kiddo," the squirrel said.

"What do you mean, watch out?" Bernie said. "Why?"

"Because he's coming."

"Who?"

"You know."

"I don't think I do."

"Let's rock."

The squirrel motioned Bernie onto his back and flew about the desert, heading right at Q.Q., who had appeared in the distance on his woolly mammoth. There was only so much Q.Q. could do against a rabid flying rodent. He still had his broom, and he swatted at his foes while the mammoth occasionally stood on its hind legs trying to bat them away. But they were too fast. The squirrel flew down at high speed and bit Q.Q. on the shoulder. He let out a scream.

"We're done for, Woolly," Q.Q. said. "Run. Save yourself. I have rabies, and I don't even remember how we got here."

The mammoth walked away from Q.Q. slowly as Bernie and the squirrel circled the barber like a vulture.

"Is this the end of Q.Q.?" Q.Q. said as they flew closer and closer. "Could this really be the end?" Still closer they came.

"Woe is me," Q.Q. sighed.

But just then Q.Q. found himself back in Mr. Big's kitchen. On his right was Mr. Big, holding the whiskey bottle. To his left were two police officers, one of them placing handcuffs on him.

"Q.Q. McNasty," one of the officers - Wilkins, in fact - said. "You are under arrest for kidnapping."

"Oh, well," Q.Q. said. "Six of one."

THE END