Last Monday morning Fenton flew way too close to a propeller aircraft, which shaved off the quills on both sides of my frame. I was unhurt otherwise, but I was shaken by the experience. (Fenton even more so.) Now I'm just walking around campus looking like I have a mullet. Rhonda says it's more like a mohawk, but she's just trying to make me feel as if I have "street cred."
The incident brings up an issue that's been developing between Fenton and I. He likes dangerous flying stunts...which is fine except when I'm with him. What's happened is that his judgment of danger is different than mine. Hopefully, my quill loss will cause him to recalibrate his mental risk setting.
I haven't told my folks; they'd just worry, and Dad would blame Fenton for endangering me. That would put Fenton's job at
Hare-Link at risk. When I go home I'll just say I had a sudden impulse for a new do.
Naw, they'll never buy that. I'll say I studied new quill styles for weeks, computer-analyzed the options and subjected them to rounds of tests before making a scientific decision. That would be believable.