Having recently shaved my head, I can certainly understand why Mr. Nutmeg pulled a Davy Crockett on his best friend, wearing Heathcliff atop his head like the king of the wild frontier’s coon-skin cap. What I don’t understand is how some dude attired in a Hefty cinch-sack and a pair of yellow loafers could possibly look at his fellow speedwalker (a man walking with so much force that his hips are out of alignment) looking to throw shade. Motherfucker, you’re 45-years-old and wearing a winter hat that has a poofy ball sewn into its top; who are you to criticize fashion?
Paul Arrand Rodgers was a contributor to Heavy Feather Review issue 1.1. In addition, his poetry and stories have appeared or are forthcoming in Knockout, JMWW, Monkeybicycle, and elsewhere. Follow Heathcliff Explained on Tumblr, then check out Date with a Wrestler and Fear of a Ghost Planet.