Sattire Attire part VIII; illegally Blonde

False face must hide what the false heart doth know. - William Shakespeare

"Dmitri, my friend, it was like magic". Sylvester had started his narration before Dmitri could do anything to prevent it. They were interesting at first, his stories, but now... well, it was the same story. The same beginning, the same ending and whatever was in the middle was irrelevant.
"...she was like a breath of fresh air in the depths of a coal mine, like a sea-shell with the secrets of its voyage. She was like the answer to the question of mortal life, like unwritten poetry she has me obsessed..."
Still in the middle. How long before he finishes? wondered Dmitri.
"...what is it Dmitri? It seems like you have something on your mind. The only problems that you usually have on your mind are mine! and let me assure you, I have been through worse. Then what is it that troubles you?"
Dmitri was looking at the table, he never had the heart to say it before but enough was enough. "Sylvester, you are a poodle-faker and that saddens me."
"A poodle-faker?!" said Sylvester, more alarmed and amused than upset.
"Yes, Sylvester, a poodle-faker. An aspiring ladies' man. Though all you do is... well whatever you do, you do it wrong and it doesn't work. They're all frippets, the lot you chase, and you're a man-frippet."
"A frippet? Now don't go on calling them that. Me, well I can imagine, but they're not all..."
"Well what would have me call them? They're all quite pre-disposed to showing off and I'm being generous when I call you a man-frippet."
"That's not fair. I mean you can't..." and Sylvester was interrupted, not by Dmitri, but by a frippet who had just made her way into the diner.
Dmitri demanded attention. He half got up from his seat, bent over the table and grabbed Sylvester by his collars, "You listen to me!"
The frustration, quite understandable for us, was not so obvious to the rest of the diner. As a result, the many lights that were dispersed around the diner had all focused on table 8; Dmitri and Sylvester's table. The fine blond frippet too had turned around, a little confused.
Sylvester made use of this opportunity, "He means me, not you". To that she giggled and took her seat to see Dmitri let go of Sylvester's collar.
"Stop showing your teeth, she's not for you; you'll regret it" Dmitri told Sylvester with a little less acrimony and a little more authority.
"What do you mean? Just look at her. If I could..." Sylvester was about to go on a 10 minute monologue about a woman he didn't even know, but for his sake and ours, Dmitri cut him off, "Blah blah blah. You listen to me now. That is a dumb blonde."
"But not all blondes are dumb!!" a hurt Sylvester said in defense of the blonde-hood.
"Don't tell me that you don't know?" asked Dmitri, a little surprised.
"Know what?"
This explained a little but not all of Sylvester's foolish behaviour in the past. Dmitri explained:
"You are right. Not all blondes are dumb. Some are actually very smart. This applies to all natural blondes. However, the term dumb-blonde I use for the unnatural or illegally blonde."
"But but but how can you tell the difference?!" This was news for Sylvester.
"It's quite simple. Just look at your dumb-blonde frippet there...sorry there was no need for me to say that. You haven't taken your eyes off her still, therefore, keep looking at her. Her head is blonde. Her eyebrows are not. Connect the dots..."
"But it can't be true. Can't she be smart and want to be blonde?" Dmitri didn't need to answer that one. The blonde was overheard:
"...so I gave him my cell-phone instead of my home-phone. You know, since my home-phone does not have caller ID. Now I know when he's calling and so I can ignore him..."
And for once, Sylvester had nothing to say.