once upon a mohawk,

once upon a time, there was a little boy who liked to wear his hair in a mohawk. and that is what he called it.

a mohawk.

his very analytical, left-brained brother liked to wear his hair in a fauxhawk. because it most certainly was NOT a mohawk since ligistically, it didn’t go entirely from front to back as a true mohawk should.

so, his was most definitely a fauxhawk.

each morning when they entered the bathroom to get their hair done the inevitable argument ensued.

mohawk. no. fauxhawk. no. MOhawk. NO. FAUXhawk.

MOHAWK!

FAUXHAWK!

i think you get the picture.

until their mom {in a hippie-like tone} interjected with,

*why can’t we all just get along dudes? mohawk, fauxhawk, they’re different but the same. just like you two.*

different. but the same.

and from then on, they lived in a happy world where mohawks and fauxhawks were both equally acceptable word choices to define their hairstyles. and no one argued and everyone was happy. always. oh. and they got along too. and gave their awesome mom back rubs and coffee. on instant refill. and did everything she asked the first time with a smile on their mohawked/fauxhawked adorned faces.

the end.