2407 Stories - Awaiting Approval:Stories 0; Comments 0.
This site is for Male Haircut Stories and Comments only.
Bicentennial Haircut Request by MDemarlo
Bicentennial Haircut Request
Spring break down in sunny south Florida will be a blast. Paul can hardly wait until he gets down there in the warm sun. His best buddy Stan has an almost brand new custom van that the two of them along with four other of their friends will be driving down south on I75 from Ann Arbor Michigan to their destination Key West Florida. They will be making stops along the coast starting in Merle Beach South Carolina, Jacksonville Florida, Daytona, Palm Beach, Ft Lauderdale / Hollywood North Miami Beach, and then the Florida Keys. Stan had clearly drawn a big circle around every beach city they planned on stopping.
This is the summer of "76" bicentennial year. The United States celebrates its two hundred years July 4th independence day. Stan’s Custom Dodge van even has red white and blue Michigan License plates. Left side of the plate is blue with white stars and a big blue 76nurmeral. Mid section to the right are red and white stripes. Along the top it says MICHIGAN under that the registered letters and numbers and along the bottom it says GREAT LAKES STATE written in blue. These were issued standard through the DMV if your car was registered in 1976.
Six college kids on spring break all from the greater Detroit metropolitan area. All six are in grad school at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. Before we even get on the Jeffries Freeway and I75 It takes a good part of the day just to pick everybody up at their parent’s houses. Ann Arbor is in Washtenaw County; from there we picked up three of us including Stan. Then to Wayne County makes four, continuing up to Orchard Lake in Macomb County which is a good 35 miles we pick up Steve. From there over to Roseville in Oakland County, Ken joins us. We underestimated how much room we would need in the van for six people to be comfortable. After several hundred miles going south on interstate I75 there was tension in the air. Every bump in the road somebody was rubbing against somebody else. A shouting match developed and Kenny wanted to go home. Halfway through the state of Ohio and not just Kenny wants us to turn back but Steve wants to throw in the towel as well and go home also. There is no way we are turning around so the two were dropped off to hitchhike back north. This gave us allot more room, but leaving two pissed off friends on the side of the Interstate near the Mason Dixon line turned out to be my downfall.
Stan was already tired of driving, so I volunteered to take the wheel. We had crossed the freeway so the two deserters would be headed north. Jumping the median was easy, I just drove across the turn around that said official vehicles only. With all of us hollering at one another nobody noticed the Kentucky State Trooper who was now pulling up to the van with his flashing blue light sending blinding blue shocks of light around and around showing up in the tree’s.
Oh wonderful, now I’m going to get a ticket because of you two ass holes couldn’t walk to the other side of the interstate. I said to Kenny that I hope it starts raining and keeps raining on the two of you all the way back to Roseville.
The officer was impressive with his crisp tan / khaki uniform a thin neck tie and shoes so shiny one could see their reflection. Steve made a comment about the trooper’s hat, something to the effect of Smokey the bear. I kind of let out a snort of a laugh and thinking the trooper was out of ear shot headed back to his vehicle with my drivers licence. But he wasn’t and heard me say he looked like a strip-o-graham cop ready to give us a go-go dancer. And we all got a good laugh at this trooper’s expense.
When he came back he actually opened my door and said for me to step out of the van. I did so and was handcuffed. Then he told me I was driving under a suspended Michigan Drivers License. Pushing me up against the van he patted me down, reached into my shirt pocket and produced a joint. "Well now" he said "just what have we got hear"? Saying something referring to Smokey The Bear doing a strip-o-graham. I was put in the back seat of the trooper’s car and left there while he was talking with my friends. The trooper made some deal with my friends not to charge them with an accessory and not take them in because of pipes and an ounce of pot which was Steve’s, or Kenny’s. It doesn’t matter because they said it was mine. I watched in silence as the van crossed over to the same median I crossed, only they were allowed to do so. Still in the back seat of the trooper’s car I watched the van get smaller and smaller off in the night, until I could not see the taillights anymore. Thinking to myself "this is not good"
The trooper was a very handsome looking man in his late 30’s. I apologized to him and tried to clean it up somehow telling him that Strip-o-graham dancers are cream of the crop, they have to be really good looking to have a job like that. It was a complement sir. He just smiled showing dimples and white perfect teeth and said "yea, right" Then he said "you a homo boy, saying I’m good looking sounds to me like you’re a homo" Then he says "you want to suck my big dick, maybe I will let you go if you do it right" I was in the closet so to speak, but like a fool I said yes, if you let me go I will give you a blow job" He took the cuffs off of me and I got into the front seat of the patrol car with him. He turned out to be really fine, and I told him so. "Shut up and just suck" so I did, with his hand down my pants feeling me up, he then started to give me head as well. I felt his close cropped military haircut while he was blowing me and I immediately busted a nut.
"But you said you were going to let me go" I was ready to cry. He buttoned up his pants, put me back in the back seat and told me I would be smart not to say anything and he would recommend trustee time which will probably be 90 days for the joint and 10 days suspended driver’s license. He wasn’t charging me for the ounce of pot. And telling me how lucky I am, but not to worry. That’s half the amount of time if you not a trustee it would be 180 days for the joint. Not to mention the ass kicking you will receive from being in the main population, that he would make sure of that... "Be smart kid, I can make it very easy in here for you or very hard, it’s entirely up to you".
I was taken to jail and was in court answering to a judge the next morning. He lived up to his word and recommended I be a trustee. The judge took his recommendation and to my horror said "he needs to have that hair cut" then had the bailiff hand me a slip of paper that said HAIRCUT REQUEST. The trooper handed me a pen and winked at me after I sighed the request for a haircut slip. Back in my cell I said to the trooper as he was locking the door. "My hair isn’t even that long, it’s only mid ear, can’t I just comb it back behind my ears. "No, he said, your going to the barbershop we have here just as soon as the sheriff deputy who is are barber comes into work." I was still complaining that my hair isn’t long at all and I realized I was talking to thin air, he had left.
I was beside myself and didn’t even have a comb to make my hair look decently combed. Butterflies were swirling around in my stomach. Especially when the other trustee’ were let into the dorm type cell I was in. Each and every one of them had real short haircuts that looked like it had just been cut. An inmate from the laundry who is a trustee brought me some clothes I had to change into. White pants and a white shirt that said "Department Of Corrections" on the back of the shirt. He also had a very short haircut.
The laundry guy waited as I changed into the white trustee uniform. As soon as I got finished buttoning the shirt trooper man was opening the gate. I was told to follow him but to remain a few steps behind him. We walked down a long corridor and at the end made a right turn and I could see a swirling barber’s pole brightly lit up outside a door with the words Barber Shop written at eye level.
Upon entering the small barber shop there was only one chair. Standing behind the chair was an older man wearing a white traditional barber’s jacket. His hair was cut like a marine, waxed flat on top. This guy scared the heck out of me.
I had a seat in the chair and was caped up. His clippers fired and a rain of hair was being released from my head. An overhead fan was blowing and I could feel the lightness as his clippers went up and around my ear, clipping higher and higher. I looked at the floor and in my lap and my locks of hair were everywhere. The trooper was staring at me watching this short haircut in process. It was obvious he was enjoying this unwanted transformation taking place. A hum as the barber changed clipper blades. Saying it was a number one blade -repeating the close clipping around my ears up high to my crown and close to where my part was once on the side. He had it all combed forward and snipped it off leaving no more than an inch. Then rubbed some goo into the inch and shorter top Using a blow-dryer he brushed my hair up off my forehead. Holding a comb horizontal and lifting he zipped his clipper making the front flat. My god I was thinking, this has got to be a crew cut, and it was.
When released from the chair walking back with the trooper he said to me "this is not a onetime thing. Being a trustee we require weekly haircuts. He turned around and smiled at me saying "you look good enough to eat with that haircut as he unlocked a door leading to a vacant office. "Take off your clothes" he said as he was removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.