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Lone Star Stories Speculative Fiction and Poetry A Good Hair Day in Anarchy by Ken Scholes Ed the Barber looked up from his newspaper when the kid walked in, and as usual, he noticed the hair first. It was long, blond and tied back with a leather thong, underneath a white stetson. Good hair -the best he’d seen since the last transport from Houston Prime three months ago. The second thing he noticed was the gun-belt and the fifteen notches burned into the leather. “Heya, Pops. What about a haircut?” Ed stood, still eyeing the belt. Pearl handles jutted out of holsters on each hip. He waved to the single chair. “Hop in.” The kid tossed his hat onto the low, magazine-strewn table, and climbed into the seat. “Sure those won’t get tangled up?” Ed nodded to the pistols. The kid patted a handle, grinning. “They’re fine. I always keep ‘em close.” Winking: “You can’t be too careful in these parts.” Ed nodded, draping the sheet around his first customer of the day. Anarchy was a small mining town, an island of life in an otherwise desolate waste, home to both |
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