Frank's Cave by Princetonboy

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I was out on my golf cart surveying the neighborhood, anything to get out of the house right now. Mike, my neighbor, was raking in his yard, I swung over to say hello. We passed the time, lamented social distancing restrictions, I commented how I was desperate for a haircut. Mike smiled "I know what you mean." Then I noticed how tidy he looked, "you’re looking mighty well-groomed for three weeks since a barbershop was open," he grinned again. "What do you know that I don’t know?" He said, "you need to go talk to your other neighbor Frank. Just tell him you’re desperate for a haircut."
We said our goodbyes, and as luck would have it, I spied Frank in his yard, and wheeled up there. We didn’t know each other very well; I was new on the street. But in the course of our conversation I said something about being desperate for a haircut. Frank looked at me and said, "well, you are looking mighty shaggy. I might be able to help your out if you are interested." "Can you cut hair?" I asked, "Let’s just say I ran Mainstreet Barber Shop for 40 years before I sold it out to my niece Mindy." "That’s where I get my hair cut most of the time" I said to him. "yeah, well, like I said. Just follow me." So I pulled my golf cart into his driveway, and followed him through a chain-link gate, around the back of his house, and into a single door. "Come on in" he said. "Welcome to the Cave."
I stepped back in time. Green and white linoleum tile on the floor, a row of chrome-armed waiting chairs, a rack with ancient Field and Stream magazines. "Woah" was all I could say. "Yeah, it’s something, isn’t it. I found most of my stuff in an old shop over near Dacula. There was an ad in the paper that the building was being sold, I knew the old barber who worked there. I got the whole thing, barber chair, station, waiting chairs, even the old magazines, less than three hundred dollars, a few years back. It’s my secret. Only a few guys in the neighborhood know about it and come here for a haircut, and some others from town who have found out. I’m supposed to be retired; you know." "It’s amazing" was all I could muster. "Well, young man, sit your ass down and let’s see if we can get you fixed up."
Before I knew it, Frank spread a black and white cape over my chest, turned me toward the mirror, and began combing out my rat’s nest. "yeah" he muttered "you’ve been to Mindy for sure. She’s a pretty good barber, but don’t know s**t about the important parts, like a good taper or how to shave a neck. So, here’s the good news and the better news. Your style looks pretty good, it’s just grown out way too much. The better news is that I can fix that. But, let me tell you right now, this is a barbershop, not some frilly hair salon. I use clippers and a razor and the like. I can get you looking ship shape if that’s what you want. The only thing I’d do differently is the back. This needs to be tapered up pretty good. You’ll like the way it looks. How does that sound?" "Go for it" was the best I could muster, I figured that it could be weeks before I got back to Mindy, and if it were a wreck, well, hell, it was hair. It will grow. "All right then" Frank said. And he swung the chair around away from the mirror, put a strip of paper around my neck, and pulled the black and white cape up tight.
The next thing that happened caught me off guard. Frank took a big comb, and combed all around my head, and then I heard the unmistakable grinding of barber’s clippers: a big black set of clippers and before I could say anything, he lifted my hair with the comb and zipped it off with the clippers. And again, lifted with the hair with the comb, and zipped it off. The feeling was astonishing. I could feel every hair getting cut. The man went at it with a vengeance. He started at the back and worked around my right side, then the left, hair falling everywhere. I didn’t know I had that much hair. Again, and again with the comb and the clippers, so much so that I had a surprising response between my legs that I hadn’t felt in years.
After that he stopped and took a spray bottle and sprayed the hair on the top of my head. He combed it into place, lowered the chair, and again took clippers and began cutting. A bushel of hair came off in the first pass, and another in the second. "You got a lot of hair up here, son." He said. And so it went.
"O.K., now I need to work on this back some. You need to look down." So I looked down, but apparently not far enough. I felt his left hand clamp the top of my head and push my chin near about to my chest. "Hold still, now." He chided. This time he used another set of clippers, silver ones, with a red guard. Hair was falling at an alarming rate. He took the guard off the clippers, and then took a comb, again zipping away hair. Finally, he began nibbling around the back edges of my hairline with bare clippers. "I go around with the clipper closed, then with it open, that’s the secret of a good taper."
But Frank’s surprises were nowhere near done. He took the cape loose from my neck and began tucking in a towel around the back. Then I heard the whirring of what I later learned was a shaving lather machine. He spread the lather around my hairline, up behind my ears, at the bottom of my sideburn. He pulled out a straight razor that looked as wicked an instrument as I’ve ever seen. I think Frank must have sensed my fear, and he just grinned at me, "all you have to do is hold still." He pulled the razor on a leather strop attached to the barber chair a few times, and then pushed the skin tight on the back of my neck. I felt the sharp edge of the razor scrape microscopic hair down my neck, up behind my ears, and then on my sideburn. "And, that’s that." He said. "Let’s take a look at you." And he swung the chair to face the mirror.
My haircut was remarkable. Everything as I would have hoped from Mindy â€" and more. Frank held up a mirror "See this back, now, that’s what a man’s head should look like when he gets a haircut." I couldn’t agree more and started to get up. "Hold on a minute, young man. You’re looking a little scruffy. We’re not done here just yet." I was perplexed. What could he mean? And again, Frank swung the chair around away from the mirror. He patted my shoulder and said, just hold still."
Unexpectedly, Frank lowered the back of the barber’s chair into a recumbent position. "You ever had a barbershop shave son?" "No sir." I said "Well, you’re going to enjoy this." He puttered around with a bowl full of towels that he put in a microwave oven. When they dinged, he grabbed one of them "This is going to be hot." He wrapped the towel around my cheeks and over my eyes. It was hot as it could be. After a few minutes, I heard the shaving lather machine crank up, and he began spreading lather all over my face, under my nose and chin, on my neck. Again, he said "here’s another hot towel."
When the last hot towel came off, Frank took a mug of shaving soap and a brush and recoated my face. When he was done, he turned my head to the left, "just hold still." He was deft with the razor, beginning at the bottom of my sideburn, and then under my chin, around my neck. He turned my head to the right and repeated the strokes. Each time wiping off lather on the first towel he’d used. Then, he pulled up my nose, and slowly scraped the stubble from under it and around my mouth. Before I knew it, a third hot towel came out of the microwave, it hit my face, and he rubbed and rubbed to get the shaving soap off. He rinsed it with cold water, and slapped that on my face, I almost jumped out of the chair! "I’m going to raise you up now." And up popped the chair.
"How was that?" he asked. "I think it counts as one of the most amazing experiences I’ve ever had." "Most guys like it a lot.
"Now you know about the cave. Once you’ve been here, you’re always welcome to come back, if you see me like today, just come by, or give me a call. Next time, you might want to go a little shorter, it’s getting to be hot weather. I think you’d look good with a short cut, tapered sides." "I’m a convert. I’ll definitely be back. I only have one question." "What’s that?" "How much do I owe you?" Frank grinned and pointed to a framed picture on his wall. It said Ten Dollars.... just like in town. "You get it?" Yeah, I said.... handing him a twenty.

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