Get It Done Part 3 by Justin

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Get It Done!
- A coming of age story.
Part 3
*Be sure to read Part 1 then Part 2 of "Get It Done" to learn how Jake found himself in this most difficult situation. We join Jake who is in the process of getting a much overdue haircut at Joe’s Barbershop at his father John’s insistence.


"Dad, please!" Jake begged. "Please, I absolutely give you my word. Just please, not a crewcut."

One-eyed Joe held the clippers with a firm grip, cord wrapped behind his wrist, and ready to provide its service. He flipped the switch and they sprung to life with their distinctive clatter that only classic Oster Clippers make. Joe raised them towards Jake’s forehead ready to move them from front to back over Jake’s head to execute the Crewcut. He gave a final look to John with his good eye to elicit a final confirmation. A strange feeling came over Joe – the strangest feeling of dejavu he had ever experienced.

"Wait a minute" he thought. "Wasn’t I just looking out the door? All this has happened before. What’s going on?"

John nodded and said "Go ahead Joe, get it done."

Joe looked confused.

"You ok Joe?" John inquired.

"Yea, I just …. I don’t know … I must be getting tired or something." Joe replied.

"Well, I can understand that, and I’m sorry to have asked you to do this at the end of the day."

"Um.. Oh, no problem John. I just … I… I’m ok"

"Great. One Crewcut then?"

"Yea… sure. One Crewcut… coming up."

With that, Joe placed a firm grip at the back of Jake’s head and plowed the clippers over Jake’s head from front to back making a strip of stubble about a quarter inch long in the center of his head. Jake tried to pull away, but Joe just grabbed his head with a firmer grip. He continued making passes front to back as 4 inch length sections of hair cascaded from the clippers and fell onto the cape. With each pass, Joe pressed the clippers more forceful against his head and firmed his grip on Jake’s head. He moved purposeful and with aggression against the rebellious hair that could not escape the devouring teeth of the clippers.

Jake squirmed, but was kept under control by Joe’s firm grip. Finally, he became motionless as he gave in and accepted his fate. He sat stunned in a state of humility and dread.

Joe continued the shearing while moving Jake’s head from side to side into the position he wanted to get the best angle: pushed to the right, then the left, then the right again. Hair flowed like a curtain of dark rain not unlike the heavy rain that was pouring down outside. Joe then positioned the clippers in front of Jake's ear and plowed the clippers up and over the ear removing the hair left from the initial removal of bulk. Stubble was all that remained to match the length that was on top. Then the other side. More hair fell to collect onto his shoulder.

From the looks of it there was the equivalent of another head of hair in Jake’s lap now. He certainly wouldn’t have to worry about "styling" or combing the hair that was left.
Joe made several more passes of the clippers again up the back, around the ears and over the top to insure a uniform cut. All that remained was stubble about a quarter of an inch in length. Jake’s days of needing to go to the Style Shoppe or, use a comb for that matter, were over. No need to worry about having to place a side part or use hair tonic for Preacher hair. He now looked more like a soldier than having to worry about looking like a Preacher. More importantly, no one would take him for being a hippy anymore that’s for sure, and that was John’s objective.

The clipper’s clatter fell silent. Joe then spread warm shaving cream around Jake’s ears and along the neck. With a few scrapes of the straight razor, a clean edge was formed around the hairline.

Joe stepped back to inspect his work, then turned to the counter and grabbed the clippers again. He snapped off the blade and attached another. Then, came back to visit Jake’s head again. He placed them at the nape, and with a scooping action, clippered at the hairline up maybe halfway up his head. The abrupt line marking his hairline at the nape gave way to a clean shaven appearance of a tight taper from shaved to about a quarter inch. He switched off the clippers and returned them to their hook on the counter.

"How’s it looking to you John?" Joe asked as he dusted the loose hair on Jake’s neck.

"Looking fine. Looking fine." Turning to Jake, John asked: "What do you have to say?"

"I think I look like one of those dorks who work at the Insurance Office to be frank." Jake said with a sarcastic smile.

"Oh really?" John replied.

"I see what you mean." Turning to catch One-eyed Joes one eye, John continued "Yea, I think Jake would look much better if you took it down to a high n’ tight. Yup. That’ll suit him much better."

Jake’s jaw dropped and looked to his dad with tearful eyes.

Joe turned to the counter and picked up the clippers from their hook. He snapped off the blade, then looked through an assortment of blades laying on the counter. Selecting one, he snapped it on the clipper and turned back towards Jake’s head.

A flip of the switch and the clippers jumped back to life. Jake jumped a bit too as the clattering sound of the blades came close to the side of his head.
Joe placed a firm grip on the top of this head.

The cold steel blades passed up the side of Jake’s head in front of the ear, then over the ear, and up from behind it. Joe was leaving paths of white scalp where he passed the clippers. The quarter inch length of stubble peeled away and fell to the cape.

Joe pushed Jakes head to the side as he continued around the side, then pressed it forward as he reached the back and then did the same on the other side until the stubble along the back and sides was gone. The only hair remaining on Jake’s head was at the very top which was no longer than a quarter inch.
Joe changed blades again, and then ran the clippers over the top again with a merciless vengeance.

The quarter inch stubble on top was reduced to about an eighth of an inch – if that.

Joe dusted Jake off, removed the White and Blue striped cape that had a bushel of hair on it. The mound plummeted to the floor as the cape was pulled away.
Jake got up from the chair and took another look at his new look in the mirror. A Jarhead Marine, out of uniform, stared back.

"Hmm." Jake thought. He had never had such short hair before ever in his life. He had to admit to himself that the new haircut made him look tougher and more masculine than he did with hippy hair.

"So, what do you think?" Jake asked as he turned to his dad.

"I think it looks great. Much better."

"Well, it’s not so bad I guess. Better than Preacher hair." Jake joked.

"Thanks Joe." John said gratefully. "He looks much better thanks to you."

"Glad to be of service John."

"You can expect us back in a couple weeks. Young Jake here will need regular maintenance."

"You bet John. I look forward to having the TWO of you back here every other week. The chair will be expecting you."

With that, John paid and the two left the shop. Jake couldn’t help but look back to see the pile of dark hair laying on the floor like a dead animal. In one way he felt something was stolen from him, or lost; at the same time, he felt liberated.

Joe walked to the door to place the "CLOSED" sign in the window. As he peered out, he saw that the rain had stopped but an ominous looking green cloud was high in the sky. Suddenly, a crack of thunder and lightning hit. That strange feeling came over Joe again.


END PART 3
*What was first planned as a 3-part story, has been extended by request. Be sure to catch Part 4 of Jake’s fantastic story, "Get It Done", coming soon.

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