New Haircut

Some people will find this post extremely exaggerative, others will think it's simply hyperbolic, but I assure you, it is neither. This post will deal with the greatest haircut that I have ever received. This monumental haircut occurred less than 2 hours ago, and I am still in awe of the marvelous mastery atop my skull. Looking in the mirror does not elicit any pangs of regret at the loss of the bulky mass that once adorned my cranium, but rather, I am overwhelmed with comfort and solace as I see that my face is in perfect harmony with its surroundings. The hair does not detract one's gaze, nor does it demand the attention of passers-by. It is, simply put: perfect.
How did I come to be the fortunate beneficiary of such skilled workmanship--workmanship that could not have been rivaled by even the greatest masters, such as Donatello, Michelangelo, Lysippus, or Bernini, to name a few (these are, of course, great sculptors--not hair stylists. I wonder if they could cut hair as well as they sculpted ... I mean, if you can chisel away at marble all day, and make a masterpiece out of it, you'd think hair would only be easier ... perhaps I am wrong on this, though. Perhaps hair requires a more delicate touch, a more firm command of one's hands to achieve success. After all, I believe scissors are a much different tool than the chisel or hammer. Edward Scissorhands proved, however, that a great hedge cutter could have cross over success, both in hair cutting (and dog grooming) and sculpting (ice sculpting, at least). Regardless, my hair was cut in a much more elegant manner than any of these artists could have accomplished. And yes, even better than Edward Scissorhands, wherever he may be)?
My story goes back many years. I was a young lad, 5 years of age. The annual Christmas Eve trip of Santa Claus was about to commence, and I was delighted for a chance to meet the pudgy man in the suit that would bring me presents. I decided to wait for him outside, on my front lawn. My parents were oblivious to the fact that I was standing barefoot in the frosty snow. They were asleep, all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. I was having a very informative discussion with Frosty, the snowman who had built himself on our snow-covered lawn a few weeks previous, about the possibility of spying Santa about his yearly chore. Frosty said that he often saw Santa, and, indeed, that the two of them were great friends. The discussion led to how he had come to life one day, a long time back. He said that Santa was the one who was able to grant him that wish. I was shocked. I never knew that Santa could grant wishes as well as hand out presents. Frosty, noticing my concerned and delighted face, responded that Santa doesn't usually grant wishes ... only to those who show a degree of sacrifice. Frosty stated that he had sacrificed his presents one year, receiving a lump of coal instead, in order to be granted a wish 18 or so years later.
I was elated. I could do this too! Only, I didn't need to come to life ... I was already alive. In fact, it didn't make much sense that Frosty had really sacrificed his presents, considering that he wasn't alive at the time, so presents would have been fairly useless. I suppose that's when he received his corn-cob pipe and button nose. All the same, though, it seems that coal would have only been a welcome gift in itself, and not the objectionable surprise that it is to most of us on Christmas morning, because it would only serve as yet another eye or button for a snowman. However, the sound of the approaching sleigh, and the red light from Rudolph's nose, pushed all of these doubts from my mind.
I approached Santa with a "HoHoHo", to which he responded, "HOHOHO." He asked me what I was doing up so late. I said I wanted to trade my gift for a lump of cole. "Just one lump?" he asked. I said, "Yes, indeed." "Whatever for?" he inquired, "I was told that children like presents more than coal. Have I been wrong this whole time?" "No, Santa, it's just that Frosty told me that if I asked you for coal this year, you'd grant me a wish sometime in the future." Seeing that I was now frost-bitten in more ways than one, he validated my proposal. "So it shall be," he announced. "You, Joseph Schlegel, shall receive any wish you'd like at a future date of your choosing." I said goodbye to my new friend in red. The following morning, I was delighted to see a solitary piece of dark black coal sitting in my living room, with my name attached to it. My parents were confused; I was crying with glee.
Now, knowing this background, I think you see where this story is going. To make the long story short (because, making the long story long would require me divulging the information of my life's proceedings for the last eighteen and a half years, which would take ample time, I assure you), I used my wish today, in a bold move, to receive the finest haircut that I have ever received. So, you see, there is no doubt that it is the best, because, after all, it was an Autumn gift from my pal Santa, who is still doing quite well, I promise.
I now reflect upon the object I saw that fateful Christmas morning that made my wonderful haircut possible: a single piece of coal, all alone, solitary. This is also known as uni-coal. Thank you.