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The Smith Sons part 1 by BraidedandBound

I watched the large pickup truck drive up from the dirt road. It's red finish was dulled from the dirt. It was recognizable as the designated car for the Smith boys. There was always one or two of the four long haired brothers in it. I was excited to see which dynamic duo I would be able to watch from my stall at the farmers market today.
These four boys were well known in the countryside of Dixie County. Their family had had a farm in the woods since before Dixie had been established. So as usual with country families, these brothers were weirdly close. The Smith boys were most well known for their long hair and affliction to wearing proper clothing. Often caught without shirts or shoes they constantly would truck around town causing a commotion with the other youths. I'd lost four mailboxes to them, I was equally positive my slashed tires were also results of the adventurous youth. As the shop teacher at the local high school I have had each boy in my class and each boy disrupted the class throughout their semester.
Luckily I was on the youngest and last of the Smith Sons. Eric Smith was the palest of his brothers, and the smallest. Though he didn't have the longest hair, his small size made it seem like the longest. Though this was still nothing to be ignored. The families Irish roots were brought forth the most through Eric. His red hair always dangled defiantly down his taut frame in a tight and well oiled braid, where it would rest happily past his pants. At least that was the way I forced him to wear it in the shop. Though I dreamed of the day he would rebuke me again and his lengthy unbound red hair would get caught in the table saw.
Unfortunately Eric wasn't at the market today. The eldest son, Buck, seemed to have come alone. Which was odd, and the perfect excuse to approach his stall.
I watched as he set up his families produce stand. His hair cascaded in ridiculously round ringlets framing his sharp chin and shining like a lions mane. Bucks hair flowed freely at all times, which is why it probably ended in thin whisps at the seat of his pants. Buck, being the beefier and taller of the four brothers, was dressed in a low waisted pair of overalls and yellow works men's boots. It was obvious that he was bare beneath his overalls as his tan skin rippled with muscles as he lifted the tent and table out of the back of the red truck.
I couldn't help but wonder if Buck put so much time into moisturizing and styling his lengthy curls that he didn't have enough time to find underwear or a shirt. I was broken from my Buck-centric thought as my first customer came for the day, Buck had been late.
It was an hour later and after many wonderful wood furniture sales that I was able to find the time to walk over to the Smith Stand and begin to set the seeds. You see, I've been watching these Smith boys ever since Buck had come into my shop class. He had come in wearing untied converse, jeans, and a wife-beater. I think the boys were born with their hair as long as it was, since it always seemed to be at their butts or longer whenever I saw them. On a rare occasion one of the boys would go from knee length or past that to their hair being just around their butt, but that was the shortest it would ever go. Buck had walked in from the very first day and seemed to only care about having as much attention he could get from his class mates. With a different girlfriend every week, Buck would bounce around, tossing his curls this way and that. Buck failed the class. He would never tie his hair back so he never could operate machinery. Luckily he was the only brother to tell me,"You can't tame the mane, man." How I longed to be a man to this boy and "tame" his mane. I'd been dealing with these boys for over six years and one by one I was going to give them their comeuppance.
Buck smiled at me as I approached his stall, "Mr. Shop Man! So good to see you." Buck sniggered at me.
I grinned, picking up a potato to inspect it. "Buck, it's only been two years, surely you remember my name."
Buck rested his hands on his overall straps, "Well, my name is Buck, not Shirley, maybe two years is a long time for you, old man." I coughed, dropping the potato. Buck laughed and tossed his curls, I watched as the ringlets flew upwards towards the sky. Their lengthy tendrils swirls around his handsome face like an octopus, until most of it rested as a soft mountain behind his back.
His bangs slowly began to creep back to his face as I picked up the potato, "I Would expect that kind of talk from your younger brothers Paul and Eric, but not you Buck." Paul was the second youngest Smith. He was actually my favorite of the four. He always had his hair in a big bun during class.
Buck snorted at me, "Whatever, are you here to buy potatoes or what?"
I began bagging a few potatoes, as terrible as the Smiths were, they produced good vegetables. After I gathered a few bags of produce I walked to Buck.
He smiled when he saw what I wanted to purchase, "How much for the lot Buck?"
Buck weighed it all, " That'll be about sixty for your farm fresh produce."
I began to get my wallet out, "Dosent look like you've got any help today Buck."
His eyes looked away, "Yea, Shane was supposed to come with me but climbing trees was more important today." Buck looked back at me, scratching his big bicep.
Shane was the second eldest brother. Shane was a gifted student, but he would do whatever he wanted.with braids and dreads, Shane's hair flowed to the floor in a dreaded, braided, hippie dippie, mess.
"Shame about Shane." I attempted my best at seeming consoling.
Buck scoffed, "It’s whatever. Hopefully a branch breaks under him and then I get two cars to use." Buck consistently flicked his head to the left, to get his ringlets out of his face.
I smiled maliciously, "Now Buck you don’t mean that. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to your brother would you?" I watched his face as he seemed to mull over what I had said.
He handed me my bagged produce, "Yea, who cares old man, I’m about to ditch this joint anyways." He rolled his eyes at me. I couldn’t help but watch as his mountain of hair bounced around, untamed, unbound, and un cut.
I leaned forward, "Well if you’ve got to look out for you, I know Mr. Mckallister is gone for the week. He had asked me to check on his goats, but if you wanted to, no ones there so it’s quick and easy."
Buck stopped walking away and turned, his left hand unconsciously began toying with his cascading hair, " Empty for the week?"
I smiled again, "Yes Buck."
He clapped his hands together, "Sounds sweet, count me in! You got a deal"
I smiled, his golden hair shined brightly and healthy, maybe for the last time, he bit into my apple, and soon I’d be able to snip at those lengthy tresses that dangled past his waist.

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