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The Change-up Chop-Shop by CleanCut


Statistics 301, at eight in the morning was probably the closest I’ve ever been to that guy in roman mythology that gets his liver plucked out by hawks every day. Then everyday it grows back and he goes through the slow torture over and over again. I was good enough at math, I was studying engineering so I’d better be, it was just so early. There were a few high points that kept me awake, for one the teacher was really cool and explained things in a way that hungover college students could grasp. He was a tall man in his thirties that could honestly model if he wanted, his butt filled out his dress pants to perfection and he had golden waves of hair on top that matched his rugged beard. His name was Professor Jones, but me and my friend Sara who sat next to me called him Professor Bones, because well... you get it. Sara was one of my best friends and most importantly she kept me awake. She was pretty funny, and brought me coffee sometimes, and looked at hot boys with me: the perfect ally.
Besides Professor Bones, there were other guys in class to peruse. There was Brad the Baseball Boy with the baseball butt. A Nice guy who was the school pitcher, and had a short brown burr haircut and dimples, plus the before-mentioned booty. Matthew the meatball, a short guy who worked out so much at this point he was wider than he was tall, he filled out all his clothes and with his bald head there wasn’t a right angle about the man, just meaty mounds. The twins Patrick and Nicholas, two tall posh frat boys with red pompadours who always wore pastels and boat shoes. Tim a nontraditional student who had been in the army for four years before entering college, he had the tightest flattop I had ever seen and was built like a mountain. And lastly Connor Paris, a laid-back stoner guy who wore all black stylish designer clothes, and had a shaggy bedhead that was effortlessly cool. So yeah it was an agonizing class, but at least there were a few pieces of eye candy for me and Sara in this large lecture hall.
But this morning there was a new name to add to my thirst-list, or rather I didn’t know his name yet. It was mid semester but this guy strolled right into the class like a regular. He was tall with lean muscle, nothing crazy but all well-defined. Plain grey slacks, with light brown shoes and a matching belt with a baby blue dress shirt, the top three buttons revealing the most gorgeous clavicle I’d ever seen. He was just lightly tanned with a chiseled jaw line that was accentuated by the most precise haircut I’d ever seen. It was an undercut with an immaculate bald fade that started just above his ears and turned into a thick pile of fluffy straight brown hair that was kind of wafted into a coif by just a touch a gel, it was styled to one side and there was one strand right at the part that fell sexily onto his forehead. And he made no gesture to move it, the strand just hung there over his roman nose, taunting me. He had a razor cut part to give him a little edge and even a few more zig-zags cut below it just to push his style even more. The look was finished with thin gold wire framed glasses, that just let you know he was smart on top of being a stone-cold gorgeous. Which just made him seem even more dangerous. He walked past me without even turning his icy blue eyes to look at me.
I had seen some very attractive men in my life, even had the pleasure of bagging a few. But this man was as smooth and dangerous as a broadsword’s blade, and to be honest I was speechless. How could there be someone this smooth and this put together, that was my age. He walked down the lecture hall steps to sit in the front row, putting his leather backpack on the desk. And now I was really gob smacked, he was sitting in Roy Hertflinger’s seat. Roy was this tall lanky nerdy guy, with curly brown hair and glasses that had never been late in his life. He always was there before me and I got there early to talk s**t with Sara. I turned to her and she also had a quizzical look in her eye, behind the flushed cheeks that we shared. We both shared a look of "there’s no way. Surely he couldn’t be." But no one else seemed to be bothered by this Christian Gray looking student appearing out of nowhere. Professor Bones greeted him like normal, the two of them together looked like a freaking GQ cover come to life. I was already having fantasies. Then Broffesor Jones began to take roll, me and Sara held our breathe. Now was the moment of truth. Sara said her name, Sara Bertram, and then I said mine Colt Earwood, and then we were on to the H’s. I was looking around the room and besides from a few other girls making googly eyes at the hot guys, everyone else was glued to their phones or trying to stay awake. "Roy Hertz?" And the hot guy said "Here" in a voice that sounded like the way gun-metal looks. His voice was so hot I almost forgot Sara and I were detectives hot on a new case.
"I could’ve sworn Roy’s last name was Hertflinger." Sara said to me confused. "It was. I know everyone’s name in this class." I did memorize everyone’s name, whether they were sexually active or not, everyone was included in my fanfiction about statistics 301. Look I’m a lonely gay college student, everyone has a hobby and mine is friend-fiction. Roy Hertflinger was definitely the name of a kid in our class, and now he was replaced by his hot-ass cousin Roy Hertz. There was nothing similar to these two except that they were both near-sighted. It was confusing as heck, why didn’t anyone notice besides me and Sara. I get it we were nosy, but someone should’ve noticed. Also, how did the name get changed? Roy was smart but why would he hack the system to change his last name, let alone how on earth did he go from a solid 5 on a good day, to an 11 at least. Me and Sara turned to each other wide-eyed and both said the same word "Magic." There was no other possible explanation. Me and Sara luckily had one brain cell left between the two of us after earthquake Roy hit us to finish taking notes. But the rest of the class went by so fast because we couldn’t stop looking at his handsome back and coming up with new theories. His nape was perfectly cut, the skin was just a little lighter where there was hair and blended into a nice triangle below the crown. His shirt was perfectly crisp and you could tell his jawline could cut glass even from behind. We suspected a few things; Alien abduction and Government secret agent programs were at the top of our list.
Then the class was over and we still had no clue. "I’ve got to head to my next class, you try to learn something about Hertz, even if it’s just what team he plays for. Yours or mine." Then she bustled out of the room to avoid the rush. I didn’t have any other classes on Tuesday so my schedule was wide open to stalk the handsome lad. Now let me be clear, I don’t condone stalking in any way but when there’s an alien abducted sleeper agent in our midst and I’m the only one that recognizes it. It would be going against my civic duty if I didn’t trail this guy at least a little bit. He could be a vampire for all I knew, he could definitely give the ones on tv a run for their money. I got my stuff together into my bag and then stalled for time looking at my phone while I waited for Roy to leave. He was up in the front talking to the Prof. about a few of the new formulas we went over, just like Roy usually did. Except this time, he didn’t look like a teacher’s pet, he looked like one of Professor Bone’s drinking buddies, or even his boyfriend. If I saw too hotties like that together at the bar, I would be so flustered and intimidated I’d probably just go home. Finally, they were done laughing about math and Roy turned and walked up the stairs, he seemed to look my way as he approached but I quickly averted my gaze to avoid suspicion. But if I hadn’t, I would’ve seen Roy make a devilish smile as he let a piece paper fall out of his pocket. I counted to fifteen while I looked at my phone, giving him enough time to get away but enough time for me to see where he went. As I got up, I saw the piece of paper on the ground and picked it up. It was the perfect excuse to go find him. He might’ve dropped it but even if he hadn’t, I could just say sorry and turn around. I put my backpack on and walked up the stairs and out of the lecture hall, looking for a confident stride and perfectly coiffed crown. There he was down the stairs, exiting the math building. I guess with the makeover he had also gotten wings, because I had no clue how he got down there so quickly. I ran through the masses of students trying to get to their next class unsuccessfully and burst out of the math building to the roundabout in front. I stood on the curb looking out into the parking lot, trying to find the stud from another world, when a bus pulled out of the half circle in front and in the last seat with a head leaning on his hand looking out the window was Roy. He appeared bored and smug, like he knew my flabbergasted face was going to be there looking for him and then he just winked right at me.
My anger of being duped quickly subsided into blushing at that cliché wink. I was standing there like a blushing school girl watching the bus pull away into the city. I went back towards the university and sat on the bench out front. I stared at my only clue to all this fishiness, a tiny piece of paper. It had the number eleven on one side, and on the back, it read "Change-up, Chop Shop" with a little barber pole watermark on it. It was like a waiting ticket you would get at the DMV or something. I typed the name into google and no results. I looked up barbershops in my area and none with that name appeared. This was getting weirder and weirder. At this point I knew that this paper came from Roy, and that he wanted me to have it. I think he saw I noticed his transformation, or maybe the wink answered Sara’s question of what team he played for. Regardless of what the wink meant; the trail was still hot. I had to do something. If I didn’t know and google didn’t know about the Change it up whatever barber place, I had to find someone who did. Certainly another barber would have to know about his fellow competition, so I googled barbershop near me and there was one about two miles away, Tom and Harry’s Barbershop. It said it had been around since the seventies so this would be a good place to start.
I got in my little black two door coup and typed the address into my phone. It was not even ten o’clock and already my day had more adventure than most. The nerd in my class was now a victim of gorgeous body snatchers, and now I was heading to a barbershop to find another barbershop that probably didn’t even exist. My pace was running fast and I needed to calm down. I looked in the mirror and sure enough I was sweating already. I ran my fingers through my hair and gave myself a reassuring smile. I was an average looking guy, I played baseball in high school, mainly for the butts and to cover up being queer. I had only a few pimples, in the right light I was an eight and at my worst I was like a five. If I didn’t brush my teeth or care about my clothes. Today was a five day, I had woken up late and skipped my morning bathroom routine to make it to class. I was in loose red basketball shorts and a comfy black hoody with a little rose embroidered on it. My medium black hair was sitting in bed head tuffs, I usually styled it with product but when I didn’t it stuck out in a way that I thought was cute. I hadn’t had it cut in a few months though none of it was longer than like five inches. Black flip flops and comfy high socks, hey don’t judge I only had one class and I thought I would be headed right back home, not on a wild goose chase through the city.
I parked my car and fussed with my hair, I needed to look a little presentable, it was a barbershop after all. And image is everything, perception is reality. I was hoping that these guys could point me in the direction of this mystery shop but I also wouldn’t be surprised if they said something like "yeah we know that name, but it closed down twenty years ago." Or "Never heard of it in my life kid, you need a haircut?" it would probably be the latter and I would look like a flabbergasted idiot twice in one day. I left my backpack in the car and pushed the lock button twice. With the ticket in hand, I walked towards Tom and Harry’s. The shop was wedged between two other tall buildings on the outskirts of the city near the university. It was a classic shop with a barber’s pole spinning out front, and two chairs inside. Each chair had an old man sitting in it and then seemed to be chatting wildly, not noticing me approach. It was a little past ten on a Tuesday morning of course they wouldn’t be very busy. I took a deep breath and walked up onto the sidewalk. I leaned forward and pushed the door open. As I did I heard a louder than normal bell chime and a bright light appeared from the barber pole in front of me. I stumbled back making a sound of alarm as the light blinded me temporarily. I was a little over sensitized with the noise and the light but the ticket almost felt hot in my hand. I blinked a few times to let my eyes adjust after the ambush, and suddenly I was in a barbershop that was definitely not Tom or Harry’s.
This shop didn’t have two old men talking to each other, it didn’t even have two chairs. And besides this place looked way too nice to belong in the place I had parked my car. The floor was black stone tile with red grout in between, there were bronze waiting chairs in front of the front window with comfy leather seats. The walls were a dark brown brick and there was polished wood trim on the top and bottom of it. The ceiling was thick wooden posts laid horizontally and a nice soft light flooded the room from between them. There was one wall covered in pictures of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen, cute, stoic, cool, boisterous, athletic, studious, adorable, and badass guys all with impeccable haircuts. The other wall had a large framed mirror on it, with a wooden work desk beneath covered in haircutting tools from every century. There were clippers, manual and electric, scissors, razor blades, knives and even a pair of garden shears. Combs and other tools in different liquids. Jars of gels and waxes. And a copper sink built for men to fit their neck in one side. There was a hot lather machine and even a dryer that fit over your whole head. The wall closest to me was the check-out counter with the biggest old-fashioned metal cash register I’d ever seen. There was a collection of Austrian cuckoo clocks above it filling the story with ticking and gear sounds. In front of it was a ticket dispenser, filled with tickets just like the one I was holding in my hand, they all said eleven. And in the middle was the chair. This one was more akin to a throne though as certainly there were king’s thrones that were cheaper than this barber’s chair looked. Polished scratch-less silver with stylized arm and feet rests that looked like branches, and soft brown worn in leather covered the seat and the back. It was just a tad bit bigger than most chairs and was raised about a foot higher than most I’d ever seen. Which made sense when you saw the barber behind it. Looking at this man and the tools behind him, it was clear I was not in a barbershop of the likes of Tom and Harry, I was in a magicians Workshop.
The magician was probably seven feet tall no lie, and dressed to the nines. He was wearing a three-piece cotton grey suit with the jacket hung on a hook by the door. He wore it as comfortably as a Dunkin’ Donuts worker wore a paper hat. But it fit him better than any donut seller could dream of. Polished black leather shoes and a red plaid dress shirt with subtle black cuff links, with the sleeves pushed just passed his wrists. He looked like he hadn’t missed a day at the gym since the fall of Eden, his arms were thick and even under the three-piece cotton suit I could see his defined chest. He had legs that certainly didn’t mind standing all day, they were thicker than my waist. There was a thin black silk tie with an understated black-tie pin holding it down beneath the vest. There was a gold watch chain that hung out of one pocket. The whole ensemble seemed to be made by fairies or something, it was so simple but looked like a quality I had only dreamt of. And speaking of dreams, the man’s face was certainly made of them. He looked about twenty-six but his eyes said he was five-thousand and were the color of an oil spill on asphalt. His pale skin wasn’t like my pale ghastly college student complexion and more like fine Italian marble. Smooth and without flaws, he had a short full beard that tapered masterfully into the baldness at the top of his ears. His hair was a thick black raven color and the sides only had little speckles showing where hair would grow while the top was a full angled flattop. It was lush and stood up without any product to about two inches at the front, like this mastermind just told the hair to stand up and they gleefully followed. It was like a ramp pointing into heaven, it had a landing strip that I could barely see since he was so tall, it made him look the captain of god’s fashion-model angel-army. He was just standing there smirking, with his devilishly handsome mouth, leaning on the chair waiting for me to pick my own homely jaw up off the floor like he was used to this behavior. And if it was mere mortals like me walking through that door, he probably was.
"Number eleven?" He said with a cheeky grin. I just stared back him not really knowing what to say, I looked down at my ticket and then back up at him and managed a nod. He laughed and that just made him more attractive. It wasn’t an evil laugh, though it was one of a man with power. "They’re all number eleven, did you know it’s a lucky number?" He said leaning forward on the barber chair to get down to my level, like he needed a better look at me. "I’m surprised that nerdy little Roy had such a handsome friend. I was expecting someone even ganglier than he was. Well since the guy before him also seemed like a dorky shut in." I clasped my hands together nervously at the compliment, but at least I knew this is where Roy had gotten his new look. My knees were shaking in this other worldly shop. "Nice body, could use with some dedication though. By the look of your clothes you’re either sporty or lazy, though I can tell you’re using it as cover to go un-noticed by the straight boys." I shuffled again when he said that, which made him chuckle more. "Don’t worry, the gay ones are my favorite, it’s fun to see you all with the confidence only straight men inherit. Didn’t you like the way Roy walked now that he’s confident enough to come out of the closet." Well there was my answer for Sara. The man then continued with his analysis. "Gay but not shy about it, knows how to make his features work for him. I bet you can clean up nicely too. You’re very observant, and a quick thinker. Nice and loyal to your friends. A little shallow, but honestly who isn’t. You still help those who need it even if they’re ugly inside, or out. Your plain features are heightened by your smile and your coy blinks and winks. You don’t really get noticed that much, but that’s your choice isn’t it. You want to be a little badass but you’re too shy to attract that much attention. Oooooh Roy, you gave me a fun one." With that the tall man walked over to his desk and pulled out a black silken barber’s cape that was covered in a starry pattern. Then he walked back to the chair and held out the cape expectantly. "Well what are you waiting for I called your number didn’t I?"
I took a deep breath, and stilled my nerves. This was all more than a little overwhelming, it was like out those damn fantasy novels I read as a kid. Much more than should ever be done on a Tuesday morning. I really shouldn’t go trusting seven-foot-tall flat-topped studs in three-piece suits, but I had never met one before so how would I know. Roy seemed to have escaped unharmed, actually he escaped gorgeous and confident and with literally no consequences. If I left with never having to worry about pimples and a few more muscles, then sign me up. But at this point this magical barber could probably have me do anything, his velvety voice just drew you in. I started to walk towards the chair in the middle of the shop and began the motions to pull off my hoody. "Haha no need boy, just come have a seat." He said making me blush like a schoolgirl for the second time that day. I sat in the chair on the soft worn leather and it hugged my cheeks like a cloud. It was as comfortable as it looked and I grasped the arm rests not in fear but for balance. He draped the black space cape over me and I didn’t even feel it wrap around my hood, almost like my hoody had disappeared. There was a light kind of foggy feeling underneath the cape. But I was too distracted to notice because I finally got a good look out the large front window of this show. It was a full panel view of space. And not the kind of space we see from earth, it was full colorful galaxies and alien planets and colors you couldn’t name. It was like I was in the Hubble staring into the universe, except I wasn’t. I was just sitting in a barber’s chair floating through the cosmos. If I hadn’t seen Roy that morning and Sara confirmed it, I probably would be suspicious if she had laced my coffee this morning. Then with the clasp of the cape and the appearance of a barber tissue that suddenly appeared beneath it, the haircut began.
"You didn’t wash this morning so we’ll start with that". He leaned the chair back all the way until my neck is resting on the edge of the copper sink and my head is resting on a frame in the middle. He grabs a pull-down hose from the side and gently starts to massage my head while warm water washes my hair. I’m beginning to feel a little heady, with the soft seat and the warm water, and being so close to the most handsome man I have ever seen. I was almost convinced I had died and been sent to heaven. He stopped with the water and pours what seemed to be a potion out of a bottle and began massaging my scalp even more, his large hands felt amazing. After a few minutes of that, I am thoroughly relaxed. He grabs the hose again and rinses off with a cooler wave of water. He then puts a towel over my face and sits me back up in the chair. The old barber chair just moving to its master’s wish. He then dries off my head with a warm towel from a box nearby and gives me a good ruffle till done. Pulling off the towel and then tossing it effortless into a basket in the corner. I’m looking out the window into the colors and swirls of space, content at this point to let it be a dream. "Now I got a good look at you, I think we’ll definitely make you a little edgier, but still with an undeniably classic touch. Like an old mafioso gangster, or one of those British soccer players. Something clean but defiant. You have good hair but we’ll just tweak it a little bit, don’t worry my dear you’re in the best of hands." With his mind made up and me not in the mood to argue, I barely heard what he said anyway, he turned to his tools. Selecting a pair of modern clippers with a wood finish, he held my head with one hand and began working up the right side of my head with the other. He slowly peeled off one side burn off, his clippers not even tugging or pulling the hairs or nipping my ears, just removing the hair with ease. As he then works his way around to the back, peeling all the hair off to the bone seamlessly to about two thirds of the way up before peeling off. As he’s working his way around my head, I can feel myself sit a little taller in the chair, and the skin on my jaw tightens up. Almost like my pores are getting smaller and smoother, I wouldn’t be surprised if that pimple I had suddenly vanished.
He gets around to the other side and also peels off the left sideburn effortlessly. It’s down to the wood as my dad would say. He usually wore his hair short but in recent years he’s just given up and shaved it all. I have never had my hair this short in my entire life. Usually just sticking to a boy’s medium length cut, just trying to fit in with the other guys and not draw too much attention. But now I was boldly bald on the sides, as the breeze from the air conditioner told me. I didn’t even know they had air conditioning out here in space. "Hmmm yes I think a nice French Crop is what’s on the menu today. The contrast with the bald fade I’m about to give you will be the talk of the town." The Barber said mostly to himself, because at this point I was not fit for conversation. He could’ve told me he was about to launch me through that window and I wouldn’t have cared, this chair was that comfy. He began working on the top, combing it all down and then trimming the front so it was all ending in a blunt cut that perfectly framed the face. The hair in the front was short but it ended in the same place as the longer hair further back. All the hair was combed forward to make a precise hat-like downy top. He was working with a pair of silver scissors over comb. Gently combing out different parts to add layers and texture to the top. Some of the hair at the back seemed to actually lengthen as he combed it so that he could get the look he wanted. After half an hour he was finally satisfied with the top. And my relaxed body felt heavier, and maybe even a little bigger. He then turned back to the clippers and finished up blending out the bald fade. Maintaining the ring of hair around that was the signature of the French crop, while blending it into the shaved sides.
Or at least I thought they were shaved until he starts putting warm shaving cream on the sides of my head and a little way down my neck. After spreading it out he brings out a razor blade with a black and red gem-like handle and a silver blade and begins gently scraping off the remaining hairs. As he’s doing this, I can now definitely feel some changes "Your haircut is almost done here. I know you’re a kind lad and won’t abuse this tough exterior to bully others, it’s purely aesthetics for you. You may not have gone as far as with the aesthetic as I have just now, but I know that if you had the courage you would have. So Colt, now you have to own the swagger, don’t act shy. Even if you’re gay no straight guy is going to mess with a tattooed guy like you. And plus no one will even remember you looked any different, not even your parents. You’re going to attract other gay guys and guys that didn’t even know they were gay. I know you have that trickster part in you that tells people to flirt with you at their own risk, but be kind about it. You’ll still be as smart as you were, but now you’ll be suave and sexy too. You can either be a laid-back lad in a track suit or an edgy professional dressed up in a nice three piece suit, either one will suit you fine. Now let’s have a look shall we." During that whole talk, he had shaved the sides and back of my head twice and down my neck and even my face. He put down the razor and grabbed another towel, wiping the shaving cream off the sides of my head and calming the pores. He turned me around to face the mirror.
I didn’t recognize myself, it was me but somehow not me. My jawline had straightened out and become much stronger, my lips were more robust too. My nose was pointed like a hawk, much like my ears which were now looking a little pointed too, kind of elf like. My eyebrows now appeared perfectly trimmed, even though I couldn’t remember him touching them. They were now gracefully arched over eyelids that were just slightly more hooded than I could remember. My skin was the perfect Italian marble shade like the barber’s was, just not with that otherworldly sheen. The cheek bones were more pronounced and the haircut framed it perfectly. There was no hair at all to be seen on the sides, my black hair making the skin on the sides look almost blueish because of the stubble. There was a textured full top that stopped at a perfect blunt fringe to frame my face. I hadn’t seen him put any product in it but the hair was perfectly styled and in place, like it was on its best behavior in front of the wizard. I looked like a British soccer player or an old-fashioned gangster. My green eyes sparkling with mischief and glee in the chair. "Some of my finest work, if I do say so myself. Oh, one final touch." He then grabs both of my ear lobes and pinches slightly, when he pulls his hand back there is a black diamond stud on each ear. "And Voila!" He pulls back the cape in a giant flourish, bringing the barber tissue with it.
If I was amazed at the transformation above the cape, the transformation below, blew me away. I looked like an Olympic gymnast, toned thick flexible muscle, my arms were huge. For the first time in my life I had pecs, I flexed one at a time which made the barber laugh. I was wearing a black low-cut tank top, that was so soft and showed off my chest and arms. Which were absolutely covered in tattoos. American traditional style tattoos covered my whole body, on my arms there butterflies, butterfly knives, and pin-up guys. Over each pec was a swallow and roses. They were masculine but had such grace and style to them, perfect for a tough gay guy like myself. The tank top was tucked into grey dress pants, held in place by a black belt with a sterling silver buckle. Black wing tip leather shoes and socks held in place by garters. I could tell I was wearing silk underwear too. All of this was much more expensive than a college student could afford, the tattoos alone were thousands of dollars. I turned my head and noticed a rapier tattooed behind one of ears. I didn’t have to pay for them or handle the pain of them. This was incredible, I looked like one cool badass mother-f*cker. I flashed a smile, that looked like I was going to steal your heart, or your girl, or your car ha-ha. I stood up and gave a turn flexing my new muscles in the mirror. Giving Marlon Brando or James dean a run for their money with my looks. I was definitely a few inches taller than I was before, with perfect skin and stylish tats and fashion to match. The barber at this point had washed his hands and was now over at the checkout counter. "See it suits you fine, a charming young man, with an edge to deter any thugs but anyone who can break through it will see a heart of gold." I walked over just cheesing a grin I couldn’t get rid of "What do I owe you mate?" I clamped my hand over my mouth as a devilish British accent came out, I was from the Midwest of America. I looked at the barber in a slight panic. "Don’t worry you’ll get used to it, I was thinking about the brits so much during this and I thought it would complete the look. Gives you a little more charm here in the states. Now don’t be alarmed but no one will know what you use to look like, your parents speak British now too ha-ha. And your whole wardrobe’s changed. Track suits, more athletic wear, a few casual clothes and lots of formal wear. Here’s some product, if you use it every day your haircut will stay like that and it won’t run out. The body you will have to work to maintain at the gym, I can’t do everything for you." And with that he handed me a tiny black shopping bag with a jar and a comb in it. "And don’t forget to grab a ticket on your way out, if you see some poor chap that does recognize you or could do with a better exterior leave it with them. Have a good life now young man! And don’t be so shallow."
With that he grabbed a grey suit coat that matched my pants off of a hook and handed it to me, of course it fit perfectly. My muscles still showing underneath. "Thanks for everything Mate, I’ll never forget you!" And I gave him a proper bow, I’d never bowed in my life but when you meet a wizard in a space barbershop you do your best to be polite. I held tightly to the bag in one hand, and grabbed a ticket in the other. I took a deep breath and took one last look around the amazing shop and the chair trying to take note on not forgetting a single detail. On the wall of pictures, I noticed Roy’s face and next to his was me with my new haircut. Beneath it was a different name, I could’ve sworn my last name was Earwood. "Best be off now Colt Eden." And the door opened, the chime rang and I was kind of sucked out through it. I was standing on the side walk outside of Tom and Harry’s, the two old men still chatting away not noticing me or my changed appearance at all. The breeze felt nice. I pulled out my keys and surprisingly an Audi beeped in response. I hopped into the leather interior and looked at myself in the mirror, giving myself a wink and a trademark trickster smile. Sara would never believe this, but first I had to go pick up Roy. To see if that handsome man had dinner plans.




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