Apropos of Nothing

Today I spotted the most magnificent mullet that I have ever had the privilege of viewing in person. I have seen photographs and read accounts of many rare and remarkable mullets, but now I can add my eyewitness account of such a unique sighting.

Northeast Georgia is mullet country. The species is abundant in many varieties and can be found almost everywhere except libraries or other academic settings. Invariably dressed in camouflage or NASCAR clothing, the mullet is most often seen in barbeque shacks and in Wal-Mart purchasing its daily supply of Mountain Dew. Mullet families are highly prolific and usually consist of a breeding pair and a litter of four to five snot-nosed offspring, each born only a year apart. The female of the species is often bleached blonde with a large crest rising above the forehead. Young males generally exhibit the buzz cut or flattop mullet while their older brothers may prefer the more modern faux-hawk variation. It is the adult male of the species, however, whose dramatic plumage gives it both its namesake and its notoriety.

It was in my workplace that I witnessed this particularly glorious specimen. When the mullet entered the building, right away I knew that I was in the presence of greatness. The wearer of a prize mullet knows that he possesses something special and exhibits the appropriate sense of pride and accomplishment. Both his swagger and his ’85 Camaro let the jailbait females of the scarlet-nape species know that he is available for stud service. His coiffure also serves to let all other lesser mullets in the area know that he is indeed a badass and will “fuck up any faggot” that dares to challenge his position. This exquisite example stood before me and I trembled slightly. His was the classic mullet taken to new levels of creativity. The sides were cut close with very carefully shaven horizontal stripes that can only be achieved through skillful use of a beard and mustache trimmer. On top were the standard “Achy Breaky” spikes, but these had been combed forward along the front edges to compensate for a receding hairline. It was gelled to a fine lacquered sheen, giving it the envied “wet look”. All of this was rather commonplace and not especially noteworthy. It was the back, however, that truly set it apart. Along the back, beginning at the base of the skull, was a cascade of thin stringy, braided rattails that each ended in a small, red elastic band just above the waistline. This effect must have taken many hours of careful plaiting by his girlfriend/stepdaughter. The stunning effect was further accented by a greying goatee and a chunky nugget-gold crucifix on a heavy rope chain. I blinked in amazement, unsure if what I was seeing was truly real. The care and attention that must have been given to this mullet was astounding and I knew that documentation of such a creature would be vital but extremely difficult. Despite his bravado, the mullet wearer is very sensitive and distrustful of those who do not also share his hairstyle. He is easily confused and will react violently to that which he does not understand. The mullet has sharp instincts and knows when it is being threatened with ridicule.

As one of my coworkers stepped up to assist him, I began to move around the counter in an attempt to flank him. I held my camera phone inside my pocket and tried to gauge my chances of successfully photographing this rare creature. To truly capture its magnificence, I would need to shoot it in profile and that would be nigh impossible without his knowledge. If I could get the picture, I would have something of great scientific value. In doing so, however, I risked a sure and severe ass beating as well as the destruction of my equipment. My palm was sweating as I pulled out my phone and flipped it open. This was crude photography, but I hoped that it would provide the necessary detail to convey the majesty of what was before me. Each time I was prepared to raise up my camera and take the shot, he glanced over at me suspiciously and I began to sense that he knew that he was being watched. All would be lost if he felt threatened. An enraged mullet can be truly dangerous to which any child, spouse or dog thereof can attest. If he charged me, my only defense would be to grab a nearby hanging pipe wrench and bludgeon him. After several tense moments, I decided that the risk was just too great. Photographic evidence might make me the envy of many cultural anthropologists, but I could not justify risking my safety or endangering this magnificent creature. While I was certain that his mobile home contained many fine examples of taxidermy, I could not bear to see him suffer such a fate. I knew that it was better to let him return to the wild. I would have to be content with only a fond memory and a tale to recount of my chance encounter with this most exotic example of a hopefully endangered species. I put away my phone and watched as he turned and strutted out the door. His braids bounced and swayed magnificently and, just before he climbed up into his work truck, he placed both hands underneath and flipped them up and out, flashing crimson as he freed them from his shirt collar.

So, I am left only with this testimony about the one that got away. Like those who have seen Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster, I have nothing but my story to share. I saw this legendary creature and this is my account. Every word is true, I assure you.