Ron's Hair Gallery

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. One morning, a delivery driver pulled up outside Ron’s Hair Gallery and noticed something peculiar in the loading bay—a mysterious box wrapped in brown paper with no label or markings. Curious, he opened it to find nothing but a note reading: ‘For your best customer—hopefully!’ Inside was a single comb. The next day, an elderly gentleman came in asking for his usual haircut and mentioned finding a strange comb in a package. Ron smiled, realizing that someone had been playing a prank on him—and now they were both in on it.

2. One day, an elderly gentleman entered Ron’s Hair Gallery for his monthly trim. As he sat down in front of the mirror, he heard a soft voice over the shop’s intercom: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please note that today’s special is a free haircut for anyone with grey hair longer than three feet.’ The old man chuckled, realizing he’d been had. Just then, Ron popped out from behind the curtain, holding up a tiny comb. ‘Special only applies if you can reach your own hair,’ he winked. The whole place erupted into laughter—except maybe one confused delivery driver who thought he was supposed to cut someone else's hair.

3. One afternoon, while delivering supplies, a young courier parked his truck near Ron’s Hair Gallery. Curious about the strange box on the backseat, he decided to take a closer look. Inside, wrapped in old newspaper, lay a peculiar wig with eyes sewn into its forehead. The courier, intrigued but cautious, whispered, ‘Who would sew eyes onto a wig?’ Just then, Ron emerged from inside and asked if everything was alright. Embarrassed, the courier explained what he found. With a twinkle in his eye, Ron replied, 'Oh that? It's just an old prop for our Halloween display.' The two shared a laugh, and life returned to normal—until next year when they did it again.

4. In the dead of night, when even the city seemed asleep, a delivery van pulled up outside Ron’s Hair Gallery. The driver, rubbing sleep from his eyes, glanced around warily before stepping out into the moonlit street. The door creaked open, and a soft voice asked, ‘Delivery for Mr. Ron?’ Inside, amidst the neatly arranged combs and scissors, sat an old man with twinkling eyes. ‘Ah,’ he replied, ‘just in time for my midnight trim.’ The delivery driver blinked, then burst out laughing as Ron emerged, wearing nothing but a pair of pink bunny slippers. ‘A regular,’ Ron chuckled, tucking a comb into his pocket. ‘See you tomorrow!’