I went for a haircut yesterday and walked into the Mohel's shop by accident. It wasn't my fault, those two bastards have the same type sign out front, a pole with dressing on it. A pole's a pole, right? So I went in and sat down and before I knew it, the barber (actually the Mohel) was taking down my pants and reaching for them. I thought, well maybe this is a gay barber shop and this is protocol. But even if it was, I wasn't having any of that. I don't mind my hair dressers being gay, but for pity's sake, they don't have to pull my pants down. They COULD ask!
It was then I realized I was in a Mohel's place, you know, a circumcision parlor. I told the guy I had already been done, years ago. But he was a nice man, and insisted on seeing what gives.
Well, long story, short, he was not impressed by the job done back when I was 8 days old and suggested I have a little more work done. Jimminy Cricket! I'll have my face lifted one day, and I keep my feet supple and smooth for any competitions down the line, but I thought I had had plenty of foreskin removed the first time. He measured me, soaked me in a special circumcision solution, wrapped me in some kind of sweet powder, and then said he would do me for $14.99
Now, I don't know what my first bris cost, but my Dad told me they did a good job, and since I looked like everyone else, I never complained about it. But I was already in the chair, so I let him. Look, everyone's got to make a buck, so what's a little extra minor circumcision?
That's adventure living! I had a haircut too, after that. But that wasn't as exciting