"So, what do you do with all this hair?" he asked. The stylist paused. She had recently begun therapy and was trying out a policy of complete honesty as good for her state of mind. "Well," she said, "I collect it and add it to a pile in the back. Once I have enough, I'm going to bring it to life."
She tried to keep working on his hair, but he turned and looked at her. "Really?"
"Yup," she said. "Turn to the left?"
This only lasted a minute before he turned and looked at her again. "So, you really have this giant pile of hair?" She nodded. "Can I see?"
She looked around the otherwise-empty salon. "Sure," she said. Brushing off the apron and letting him up, she showed him into the back, and then through into a room beyond. Sure enough, there was a pile of hair.
"So, uh, how do you bring it to life?"
"It needs a sacrifice of blood," she said. "A couple quarts, I think." He edged toward the door, and she said, "Oh, heck, you're safe. I'm going to use my own."
He tipped well but gave her a terrible rating on Yelp.