Devil's Haircut

As I was running my fingers through ABC 4 reporter Chris Vanocur’s hair, I thought, “This has got to stop.”

Five days later, my hand was still feeling Vanocur’s warm, well-conditioned head and I ran into Artie Fufkin at Shaggy’s Livin’ Room. Artie is X96’s afternoon DJ and moonlights on Wednesday nights at Shaggy’s doing what he calls “Artie-oke.” It’s like karaoke, but with Artie. Artie Fufkin.

I walked up to Artie and I could tell he’d recently had his haircut. The back of his neck still bristled from the barber’s shears. Fufkin has thick hair, the kind of hair that should not be hidden behind a radio microphone. I know this because I ran my fingers through his hair. It was like a dark forest.

Then, just like Chris Vanocur, Artie said, “What are you doing? I didn’t say you could touch me.”

I don’t know what the going rate is for a soul, but I think I unwittingly sold mine to the devil at a discounted rate. Look at Robert Johnson—he supposedly met the devil at the crossroads and bargained his soul to become a famous blues guitarist. It seems as though the devil purchased my soul and, in return, my reward is meeting the moderately famous of Utah. And sometimes, I get to run my fingers through their hair. I got ripped off.

This must have been a prepubescent deal with the devil, because the first time the contract was honored, I was playing the videogame Donkey Kong. In the middle of trying to climb a ladder to save the princess, I got a tap on my shoulder and there stood the Prince of Provo—Donnie Osmond. He asked if I would play him in a game of doubles Donkey Kong. “CeRtaInlY,” my young voice cracked.

My soul was black. His socks were purple. I didn’t dare touch his hair.

Then there was Randall Carlisle. If you ever get the chance to meet this ABC 4 anchor, you have to touch his head. That hair of his just bouncing around on the TV screen is like seeing a velvet painting of the Mona Lisa. But to run fingers through his hair, this could be the only moment in my life when I’ve said, “Maybe kids in school should be taught Intelligent Design.”

Later, I told my favorite haircutter Memorie that I was going to rot in hell because I’d sold my soul to the devil. With a few snips of her scissors, my haircut was finished and she said, “It’s not your soul you should worry about losing. It’s your hair.” Between bartenders and haircutters, I wonder why this world needs psychiatrists. Memorie was right. It’s not my soul which is lost, it’s my hair disappearing down my bathtub drain that has me obsessing over full heads of midlevel-famous hair.

The next Wednesday night, I headed back to Shaggy’s to sing “Artie-oke” without running my fingers through Fufkin’s hair. I could have chosen to visit Fufkin at Shaggy’s on Saturday, because that night he rocks the house and raises the roof and says “Woop Woop” a lot as a DJ, but I chose Wednesday for two simple reasons. No. 1: Steins of Killians are only $2.50 and No. 2: Shaggy’s hosts a free Texas Hold-’Em tournament downstairs. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen: Wednesday nights at Shaggy’s, you can poker on the bottom floor and then liquor upstairs.

After Artie set up his “Artie-oke” machine, I asked him to cue the song “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair.” Then I kept my hands to myself and sung the devil free.

City Weekly full disclosure: Phil and Randall have never spoken after “The Incident,” Artie and Phil used to be roommates, and it is unknown if Chris Vanocur is seeking a restraining order.