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Bob's barber by Storyteller

The story I tell you now happened in 1981, when I was 15 years old. Like most boys my age, I had long hair. I had no signs of facial hair, my hair was brown, straight, it covered my big ears completely, was past the collar almost to the shoulders, the bangs often fell over my eyes. As I had very fine hair, it formed waves when it touched the ears.
During a good period of that year I performed in a play at school. With the excuse that my look had to remain the same while working on the play, I avoided getting a haircut for six months. So my hair, which used to be long, got even longer.

After the play season ended, I knew I needed a haircut and intended to get a trim. On the day I decided to go to the barber to get a haircut, a classmate commented: "-You saw that a new barbershop opened near my house?" And I said, "No, have you ever been there? Is it good?" And he said "Yes". As my classmate had a modern hair style, I thought it would be cool to get to know that barbershop. So, instead of going to my usual barber, I went to look for the barbershop that my classmate suggested.
I immediately saw the barbershop, which was really new on the area, but had an old barbershop style. The furniture was traditional and so was the barber chair. Looking from the outside, I saw the barber. He was an elderly, balding man with a well-kept white mustache. I opened the door slowly, a bell rang, and the barber, who had no customers at that moment, turned and looked at me.
I smiled and said "Good morning, Sir, I came to your barbershop at the suggestion of Bob, who lives across the street". He said, "That's great, sit down," pointing to his barber chair. As I was inside the barbershop, I smelled a very pleasant aroma, which seemed to be a mixture of different smells of characteristic barbershop products. I took a deep breath to smell the aroma. I went to the barber chair, jumped up and sat down comfortably, with my back well positioned, arms on the armrests and feet well set on the footrest.

The barber took a big black nylon cape and put it around me, very tight around my neck, pulling my long hair out of it, he turned the chair so that I looked at the door and the mirror was behind me . The barber looked at me and asked "Do you want a cut like Bob's?" I smiled and said "Yes, Sir". He smiled and said "You are very polite, son". I nodded and smiled.
Without much delay the barber took clippers, with blade # 1, turned them on, held my head firmly and started moving clippers all over my head. I was in shock, and I didn't even have time to react. He held my head and moved clippers from the forehead to the nape and just throw my cut hair on the floor. He made one movement after another with the clippers and was opening a huge shorn stripe on my head. He held my head firmly, managing it to make it easier for his clippers to run over my head. Before long he was bending my ear to pass clippers around. And then he did the same on the other side. A hand passing over my head was the signal for me to realize that I had extremely short hair all over my head.

The barber then turned off the clippers and changed blade from # 1 to # 00000, put his hand on the top of my head, turned on the clippers again and started to move clippers on the right side, he went up very high with the clippers. Little bits of hair flew now as the clippers ran on the side. The same he did on the other side. Then he pushed my head, making my chin touch my chest, and started to move the clippers from nape up very high. In a few movements he was ready. Then he turned off the clippers and I heard the sound of the lather machine working. While he took some lather with the shaving brush he said "Look, your friend Bob across the street". I saw a boy, named Bob, who had been my classmate for many years and then went to military school. "Are you going to be his schoolmate?", The barber asked me. Then, I realized the misunderstanding that had happened. In order not to cause problems I said "Yes, I'm going to be Bob's schoolmate". The barber smiled and started lathering around my ears and on the nape. Then he used the razor to do the outline.

He took a duster brush and started passing it over my head, then put talcum powder on the brush and passed it over the area that he scraped with the razor. He uncaped me and said "Done". I got down from the chair, paid him and thanked him. On the street, I rubbed my head, still kind of confused by everything that happened ...

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