The barber has accidentally taken off an ear. It lies like something
newborn on the floor in a nest of hair.
Oops, says the barber, but it musn't've been a very good ear, it came
off with very little complaint.
It wasn't, says the customer, it was always overly waxed. I tried
putting a wick in it to burn out the wax, thus to find my way to music. But
lighting it I put my whole head on fire. It even spread to my groin and
underarms and to a nearby forest. I felt like a saint. Someone thought I
was a genius.
That's comforting, says the barber, still, I can't send you home with
only one ear. I'll have to remove the other one. But don't worry, it'll be
Symmetry demands it. But make sure it's an accident, I don't want you
cutting me up on purpose.
Maybe I'll just slit your throat.
But it has to be an accident . . .