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The frendly neighbor by Storyteller


During my childhood, since I was eight years old, my father allowed me to let my hair grow, according to the fashion of the 70s. When I was twelve years old I went to spend the summer holidays with my uncles. Although, normally, I used to go to the barbershop to trim my hair a little before traveling for the summer, that year I ended up forgetting and traveled with my hair already long, almost on my shoulders.

I was a very responsible, well-mannered and respectful boy. In that holiday season it ended up that my uncles' house was very full of guests that they did not expect and, as I was the most polite and easily adaptable, they asked me to sleep at the house of a neighbor and friend of theirs. I, of course, obeyed and went to the neighbor's house, who was an elderly widower without children, he was very nice and welcomed me very well.

On the first night we were talking and he commented that he had cut the hair of some boys in the neighborhood, and that he used to do it in his garage, because he had all the equipment, because he had worked as a barber. I found it interesting and commented to him that, if he didn't mind, he could cut my hair, as I ended up not cutting my hair before coming to my uncles' house. He liked the idea and the very next morning, as soon as I woke up, he was already in the garage with a barber chair waiting for me.

I said "Good morning, Sir" and went straight to the barber chair. He put a cape around me, making sure my long hair didn't get caught inside it. He took a comb and started combing my hair. He asked "Do you want me to cut you the same way I did on the boys yesterday?" and I, without even thinking or asking what the cut was, said "Yes, Sir", imagining that it would be a normal cut for boys of the time.

He promptly opened a box and took out clippers that he immediately plugged and turned on, holding my head very tight and, lifted my long bangs, starting to run the clippers straight from my forehead to the nape in a single movement. I felt a chill, I had never felt clippers in my head before, I noticed that it had the number 0 written on the blade. I obediently stayed quiet, without making any comment, also because I had said that he could make the cut without knowing what it was like.

He held my head very firmly and made the movement with the clippers very precisely, pass after pass, letting my long hair fall behind the chair. When he started running the clippers on each side, he tilted my head a little. Also, he bent my ear when he buzzed around it.

He quickly finished the job. He ran his hand over my head to see if everything was even and said "There, boy". He brushed my head and moved the cape slightly so that the hair fell on the floor, before opening it. I looked at the amount of hair on the floor and asked where the broom was so I could sweep the floor for him. He said I was a good boy for my attitude and said that whenever I wanted to get a haircut I just needed to ask. I smiled...





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