Hair Flips Like Quimbies Into The Soup

It was Hawaii, June 2014. I was craving the salty sweat of the Pacific and the refuge from commercialized mainland America. As I checked into my luxury suite near where a native village had just been destroyed, I overheard a conversation that was so poetic in nature that it still captivates me to this day in my sojourns through rustic Marriotts around the world. A boy by the poolside, no more than 11, was conversing with his crusty surfer father about a girl he had a crush on. As I inconspicuously hurled my luggage into the hot tub nearby and dragged my slinking form over the hot asphalt into the bushes behind I overheard the boy innocently ask his father how he might be able to lay pipe in this lil Suzy cutie of his. As I was best able to transcribe from the video I was taking of them from inside the brambles, this is the wisdom I overheard imparted on that fateful day.

“My radical son. As you come from a most prestigious surfer lineage you already understand the most important part of seduction. It’s right above your brows brah! You know it Quimby, I’m talking about hair flips.

You see lad like the waves we chase, how often do you want to know what’s on the other side of what you surf? The hair flip, like the greatest of all clean bombs, drives us farther forward than any dummy nerd word. Shield your face behind your mane man and you will always procure puss. Name a better feeling than after you wait for a big Bertha and then get whipped in the piehole by her crest? It’s true lil Noah. We are always seeking the forbidden, the mysterious, you know it by five teeth you have left Nebuchadnezzar, the chase is always so much better than the catch. That’s not just for us surfer dudes. It’s also the same for other people like that guy jerkin it in the bush behind us.

But fret not lad, and toss your locks in other directions, for you too may be seduced by charmers of the chop. Whether it be enigmatic winks whisked underneath tempests of skater boy angst or an upper lip vibrating in spastic fury as it clutches for the lower behind voluminous femine spackle— a toss of the chops has always captured our wildest imaginations.

It’s safe to assume you’ve probably been seduced by an afro avalanche or a cornrow cascade at one point in your gnarly youth. It’s ok lil dude, it’s part of evolution. Just know how to use your waves to catch lil suzie cutie surfers and she’ll be making the drop into your soup anytime if you know what I mean.” He concluded wistfully and to my surprise without any of the clothing he was initially wearing. The boy smiled, hugged his father, playfully flipped his hair, and immediately face planted into the pavement to the resounding chortle of every woman in the vicinity and harmonious vomiting from yours truly.

I remember that conversation screaming all the way up my spinal chord and electrifying the hip-length rat tail I had painstakingly grown for myself but could do little to shield my face in seductive mystery. As I wiped the burning tears from my eyes I finished pleasuring myself and wandered solemnly to sift my luggage from the hot tub. As I hurled my luggage ahead of me in orgiastic fervor and crawled to my suite where I would spend the remainder of my vacation indoors— I vowed to grow my hair to the mysterious nature of the waves of Honolulu so that I could be somebodies lil susie someday.