So I walk into the hair salon to get a trim. My hairstylist seems a bit off today but I assume she is having a bad day and doesn’t want to talk. As I sit down, the chair feels cold and the salon has an eerie feel. My hairstylist looks like she is possessed; her hair isn’t combed, she looks like she is in a trance, and she smells frousy like she hasn’t showered in days. Im not trying to get my hair jacked up by asking questions so I just sit there wondering what will happen next. My heart is racing and I feel sweat protruding from my forehead, all of a sudden she grabs my hair so tight; I scream out “hey Barbara you’re hurting me.” Barbara releases her grasp and looks like she just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. After composing myself I look in the mirror at a side angle she gives me a quick grin and goes back into a trance, she puts gloves on her hands and begins to part my hair and apply Vaseline to my edges. Okay people I’m still sitting there but I am checking out the exit signs so I can get the heck out of there if things get any creepier. I ask myself why am I getting Vaseline on my hair to get a trim? And petroleum is a no no for naturals. All of a sudden I smell something that stinks to high heaven it smells like a perm. As I slowly turn around my stylist is standing there her eyes shining like a deer in the headlights, she is coming closer and closer to me with the perm in her hand with that devilish grin. I jump out the chair, run out the door screaming team natural, team natural crack is whack.