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Thomas by Jajko


Thomas:
My name is Thomas and in 1974 I was 14 years old. I was a modern boy and, like most people, I had long hair, covering my ears and reaching for my shoulders. My father had been warning me for about 2 months to cut my hair, but I didn't want to go to a modern barber shop until the holidays.
About a month before the end of the school year on Saturday at lunch, my father warned me again about my long hair, and I gave him the old promises that I would go to cut them for the next week. My father did not satisfy my promise, he said in a stern and raised voice: Thomas, if you are not cut by tonight, I will personally shave your whole head with a razor blade. I looked at my mother and looked for a stop in her, but she was silent. I was afraid that my father could really shave my head, so I quickly finished my lunch and ran to my modern barber. Well, he was already closed. So, satisfied, I returned home and informed my father that my barber shop was already closed, so I have to wait until Monday. But I did not satisfy my father with my answer. In the evening you will be cut or I will shave your whole head. And his barber shop, Matthew, is open daily until the evening. But he doesn't make the modern cuts I objected to. By the evening you will be cut or I will shave your head and I will not talk about it anymore, my father replied angrily.
So I went to the barber shop Matthew. Along the way, I thought about telling him that I just needed to cut it short. Just before the barber shop, I noticed a gentleman with 3 sons opposite me. I didn't want to meet them, so I quickened my pace and entered the barber shop as quickly as possible. I didn't even have time to sit on the waiting chair and the gentleman with 3 sons came to me and the boys sat on the free waiting chairs next to me. There were 5 old men in the barber shop in front of me waiting to be cut. The Lord, who came in with the boys after me, said to the barber: I must go now, I want to ask you to cut my sons High and close, then the oldest will pay. And he pointed at the boys. The barber asked how long the hair should be on top of the head. The Lord answered about 1/2 inch. The barber promised to cut the boys so much and said goodbye to his master. I sat on a waiting chair and thought about asking to have my hair cut so that my hair would stay as long as possible and continue to cover my ears. The oldest of the boys interrupted me from my thoughts and said, "It's your turn." I looked at him, got up and went to the barber's chair.
The barber wrapped me in a white-and-black striped sheet and began combing my hair. I waited for him to ask me how it will be today. But instead he tilted my head that I saw the ceiling of the barber shop, took heavy scissors from the hook, put them on my forehead and climbed with them all over the top of his head, he repeated it several times. I wanted to say something, but I had a completely dry throat and my abdomen had an unpleasant twist from the nervousness that was happening to me. He tilted my head to one side and continued to cut. When the barber relieved the pressure on my head for a moment to cross the other side of the haircut chair, I saw about 10 inches of hair on the tarpaulin. I'd rather start crying but I'm ashamed of the boys waiting to be cut. As he cut my hair on the other side of my head, he put my head in a deep forward bend and continued cutting on the back of my head. When he cut off the clippers and brushed the cut hair with a brush, I saw a strange boy in the mirror and short hair all over his head. After about 6 years, I saw my hairless ears. I noticed the boys on the waiting chairs watching my hair transformation closely.
The barber put his hand on my head again and pushed it to the right. The other finer scissors sounded, the cold metal teeth I felt over my left cheek, and they were heading for the crown of my head. In the mirror I saw my white skin on the left side of my head. After exchanging pages, he did the same on the right side of his head. He pushed my head forward again and I could feel my scissors on my neck and gradually climbed upside down to her top. He made some adjustments and loosened the tarp I had fastened around my neck. I wanted to jump out of my chair and the barber grabbed my shoulders with words. Wait for the boy. He brushed the tarpaulin off my hair and wrapped it around me again and fastened it tightly around my neck. He applied white cream to the sides and back of the head with a brush and gradually scraped it off with a sharp razor blade, then the barber wiped away the remnants of the foam and stood behind me with a hand mirror to show me the hips and the back of the head, which were clean-shaven. In the mirror, I saw a boy who looked like a recruit in a military recruitment magazine on the front page. When I went to pay him, he just asked and wasn't that your father? Aren't you with those boys? I did not answer quietly. Now you look like a boy not like a girl and said goodbye to me. The youngest of the boys was already sitting in the chair.
As I was leaving the barber shop, the oldest boy called me and came out after me. I'm sorry, I also want to ask if you go to interviews and boarding school for a high school on Monday? No, I still have a year. We can talk after the day. I agreed and went back to the barber shop. While the barber cut his brothers, we talked to me about going to the state boarding school interviews, because my parents have little money. My father forced them to do a similar hairstyle like I have, because he heard that I would get extra points for a short hairstyle. I confessed to him that the barber thought I belonged to them and gave me the hairstyle their father had asked him to do. When the oldest and the boys were cut off, we left the barber shop together with the same military hairstyles. We also had most of the way home together. We introduced ourselves to each other. The oldest Michael was 15 years old, the middle Oliver was 13 years old and the youngest William 10 years old. They lived about 1.5 miles away from me than I did.
My father praised me for my hairstyle and when I confessed to him how the barber mistaken me for boys with whom one goes for boarding school interviews and his father wanted him to go there with a military hairstyle.
At school, they laughed at me on Monday for being a recruit and a sheared sheep, but after a few days they got used to my military hairstyle.
The following Saturday, someone rings the doorbell. I hear my father say: Are you going to be Tomas's new friend? How did you end up in the interviews? My father escorted Michael to my room. He was with us for a while when Michael talked about tests and interviews. That his father was right, because he got points for a decent hairstyle and was accepted to school. He's just scared, because there's strict military discipline. Then my father left us and we talked to me for a long time. We became really good friends.




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