Dad's Decision by Buzzz

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My names Peter, Im 15 years old, tall, and for the majority of my life I had medium length dirty blond hair that stayed off of my collar. That all changed with one haircut.


It was a lazy Sunday morning when I was woken up by my Dad's voice becoming me. "What?" I replied Groggily.

"C'mon I’m take you to get a haircut." This woke me up.

"But I just got one a couple weeks ago." I responded.

"I want to take you to my barber Oliver instead of your Mom's stylist, and Im leaving for business tomorrow so its now or never"

"Fine," I said rolling out of bed. "But Im only getting a trim."

"We'll see about that," my Dad responded, "Get ready."

A couple minutes later in the car we sat in silence.

"Didn't you get a haircut a couple of days ago?" I said, breaking it.

"Were only going for you," my Dad said blatantly.

Now I really knew I was in for no good. We pulled up to the barber shop and my Dad had to nudge me to get out of the car. As we walked closer and closer it became apparent how old fashioned this place really was, walking in the door was like walking into another era. Everything Vintage, signs about fishing, black and white pictures of what looked to be military haircuts where plastered to the wall, and jazz playing in the background. It was a two chair shop but Oliver was the only barber there, he was cutting a mans hair. Oliver was a large man in his 50's with a bald head, long beard, and thick glasses.

"Il'l be with you in just a minute John." he said glancing over.

We sat in two waiting chairs, my dad turns to me and said "Peter, why dont you get one of these cuts" as he points to a section of especially brutal pictures.

"Yeah right Dad." I said with a chuckle.

"Im serios," he responded, its time you get a real mans haircut and stop making me pay fifty dollars for a stylist cut. I won’t let you have ‘trim’ here either, I’m either getting my moneys worth or I’ll buy a pair of clippers and give you a buzz cut myself. Your choice"

"No f**king way I’m getting a buzz cut from you." I said snarky.

"Watch your language young man. And thats fine by me, I guess you’ll be getting a buzzcut from Oliver."

My body filled with dread but before I could get another word in Oliver called out "Next."

I looked at my Dad one more time pleading through my eyes.

"Go, now." He said sternly.

I stood up from the waiting chair, my legs wobbly, and slowly made my way towards Oliver, he beckoned for me to sit in the chair. The second I sat down he tied a tissue around my neck, yanking it tight, and pulled a plaid cape around me.

"Well hello young man my names Oliver, how old are you?" He said as if he was talking to a toddler.

"Im 15." I said nervously.

"15? Well than your old enough for a real haircut. What’ll it be?" The barber said, lowering his voice, and oiling up his clippers.

Before I could say just a trim my dad spoke up.

"Something very short, maybe like this but a little shorter on top" my Dad said, pointing to a particularly brutal picture of a young man in uniform with a mere shadow on the sides of his head and a number 2 or so on top. My heart sank.

"That would be a high and tight buzzcut, I can do a 1 on top?" Oliver said almost seeming excited.

"Sounds good to me." My dad said as he put down his paper in preparation to watch my fate.

"I have to go back to school next week, I only want a trim." I said, my voice breaking.

"Sorry son, Dad’s decision." The barber responded, picking up a pair of scissors. "I’ll have to get some of this mess out of the way first." With that he chopped off my bangs at the top of my forehead in a straight line, I was on the verge of crying. He snipped my locks away swiftly, my dark blonde hair hitting the cape and sliding off all around me, until I had a couple of inches of hair left all around my head. I couldn’t stop a tear from rolling down my cheek.

"Oh quit crying its only hair." My Dad said with a chuckle from the waiting chair. Next the barber picked up a pair of clippers without a guard and pushed my chin to my chest. He clicked them on and dug them up the back of my head, all the way to my crown. How humiliating it would be going back to school for the start of the year looking like I was about to.

He continued shearing the sides and back of my head all the way to my crown and than went over again several times until there was nothing but a zero left.

At this point I had given into my fate. He picked up a number 1 guard and snapped it onto the clippers. He placed them on my forehead and pushed them back into my locks, I was shocked how short the 1 looked. He quickly cleared away the rest, digging the clippers into my scalp the entire time.

He faded the 1 into the zero and touched up around my ears and neckline. Finally it was over I thought. "That look good John?" he said turning me to my Dad and showing him the back with the mirror.

"It looks great Oliver." He said as I prepared myself to leave as soon as I could. "But would you mind razor shaving the back and sides? I will be on business for a few weeks so I want this to last until I can bring him next time." Once again my heart sank with another even balder blow, and to add insult to injury my dad spoke of another ‘visit’ I was hoping this would be a one time thing.

"No problem, ill make it nice and smooth." Oliver said as he grabbed a hot towel from what looked to be a small heater. He once again pushed my head down and placed the towel over the back or my head making sure to press it into the sides as well. I have to admit it felt nice. After a minute or two of this he took the towel off and spread a handful of warm lather over the back and sides of my head all the way to the crown. I was almost relaxed.

Next he pulled out his strait razor and changed it to a brand new blade, then he started to scrape the little hair I had left, starting from my neck and making his way to the crown. He did this all around my head.

He wiped the excess lather off with a towel and rubbed after shave into my scalp. It burned. He dusted off my entire head and neck with a sweet smelling powder and removed the cape, I muttered a "Thank you," left the shop and got in the car before my Dad had even payed.

Rubbing my head I was in disbelief. The back and sides where BALD and on top there was spiky stubble. I looked in the car mirror, my head looked huge and was extremely pale. I began to sob.

My Dad got in the car looking a bit guilty. "Cheer up it looks good." He said with a smile. I wiped my tears and looked into my lap. "And get used to it, no more paying a fortune for surfer hair when you can get a good short haircut for 15 bucks. Sorry." He said, returning once again to his usual briskness.

We got home and I ran up to my room, I spent the rest of the day touching and looking at my almost completely bald head in the mirror. I didn’t even eat dinner. When I went to bed early that night the sensation of my bare head on the pillow was so strange. And as I closed my eyes I was dreading the barber shop haircuts to come.

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