Otis didn’t have his first haircut until he was almost 2 years old. Mom didn’t want to cut it at all, but Dad insisted. With a half-eaten corndog in one hand and a sparkler clutched in the other, Otis plopped into the barber’s swivel chair and the ultimate compromise was made. The barber snipped, he styled, and he gelled, until the mullet emerged – a cascading waterfall of curls in the back, with the precision of a laser guided firework in the front. As Otis strutted out of the barber shop, the national anthem seemed to play in the distance, a bald eagle shed a tear of pride, and somewhere, a hotdog grilled itself in salute. The legend of the most incredible mullet ever seen had been born, and young Otis is its proud pint sized champion.