DAD! (Part 9 of 15) by JB

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Scott gets up from his seat in the waiting area, "But I'm goin' home." His grin disappears, "I think my dad and I are gonna have a long talk about my new haircut."

Scott pulls into his driveway and climbs out of his car. On the way home from Jack's Barbershop, he's had time to think about the dirty rotten trick his dad played on him. In fact, that's ALL he's been thinking about; and he's not happy, "How could he do this to me?" he grumbles aloud to himself, "Doesn't he care about other people at all?"

Scott thought about entering the house through the back door and sneaking into his room, unseen. But he quickly realized that would only postpone the inevitable confrontation. And besides, he wants to have it out with his dad. He enters through the front door and hangs his down-filled vest on the coat rack.

His parents are sitting on the living room couch watching a ballgame. Scott's dad has a can of beer in one hand and his other arm draped loosely around his wife's shoulders. Neither of them is taking much interest in the game; they've been waiting for Scott to return home so they could see what kind of haircut their son ended up with.

As Scott enters the living room his mom lifts her hand to her mouth and utters an indistinct gasp, "Oh my!" she exclaims with a shocked but pleasant surprise upon seeing Scott's flattop.

"Hey!" Scott's dad says jovially, "Look at YOU! You got yerself a flattop haircut! I thought maybe you'd get yerself a tapercut for my birthday present; but a FLATTOP! Wow!"

"Cut the crap, Dad. Jack told me all about your lies."

"Oh." Scott's dad says as the grin falls from his face.

"Only, Jack didn't know they were lies, did he?" Scott says accusingly. "He was another victim of your scheme, just like me."

"How'd Jack take it; when he found out I told him a few tall tales? Was he angry?"

Scott's temper is rapidly rising, "What about me?! Aren't you going to ask if I'M angry?... And no, Jack wasn't angry because I didn't tell him. He still thinks I wanted this... this flattop. I didn't want him to feel bad about giving me a haircut I didn't want; or about being lied to. So I didn't tell him about your 'tall tales'. I put on an act for his sake."

Scott's dad, Steve Kramer, is actually impressed by his son's decision and willingness to keep Jack's feelings from getting hurt. But the notion passes quickly. He shrugs, "It's just hair. I didn't think it was such a big deal, is all."

Scott rolls his eyes in exasperation, "THAT'S THE PROBLEM! You didn't THINK!... You never do! Don't you care about what I'm gonna go through at school? Even people I don't know are gonna stare at this dorky flattop and wonder what kind of doofus I am to get a haircut like this!" He slaps the side of his head for emphasis.

Scott's mom is visibly worried about her son's reaction, "Oh, Scott. I don't think it makes you look like a 'doofus' at all! In fact, it makes you look handsome and grown up. Just like in that photo..." She points to the bookcase at the empty frame where the infamous photo should be and stops short, remembering her husband's scheme.

"Oh yeah," Scott begins, trying to keep his anger from boiling over, "The 'photo'. Six-year-old me with a flattop." He goes over to the coat rack and whips the photo out from his vest pocket, "Is THIS the photo you're talking about? Gee, how did THAT get in there?" He tosses it onto the bookcase next to the empty picture frame.

His mom carefully puts the photo back into its frame. A couple of months later, the old photo will be accompanied by a new photo; Scott's senior picture, with the same boxy flattop he had when he was 6 years old. As if his long-haired years in-between never existed; as if he's had a flattop all his life, "That's my favorite picture of you, Scotty."

"Scotty?! You haven't called me 'Scotty' since I was... well, since that picture was taken. I'm not six years old anymore, Mom! I'm almost eighteen. And it's not 1967 anymore, it's 1978! How could you let Dad talk you into this? Were you in on this scheme all along?

Seeing his wife getting more upset by the second, Scott's dad intervenes, "This was my idea, Son. Yer mom caught me taking your photo out of its frame so I clued her in on my plan. She wasn't keen on the idea but I talked her into it."

"Figures," Scott replies sullenly, simmering down a bit.

At that moment they hear a car pull into the driveway. Scott goes to the window to see who it might be. He isn't in the mood to be seen and gawked at by some relative; even though he's aware that eventually, all his aunts and uncles, grandparents, cousins, and everyone else he knows will find out about his new haircut and will want to see it for themselves; like a new animal at the zoo. "It's just Kevin," he says, glad that it isn't one of his relatives, or worse yet, one of his other friends from school.

Scott opens the front door before Kevin can knock, "Hey Kev. What's up?"

Kevin steps through the doorway, "I was on my way home from the barbershop when I remembered I was gonna get that jar of Waxy Butch stuff for my hair and..."

"Whoa!" Scott's dad exclaims, "Our shaggy-headed Kevin got himself a flattop, too!" he grins, "How'd THAT happen, Kevin? That landing strip looks really great on you; nice an' big an' white, too! You can see it for miles."

Kevin grins and blushes a bit from the compliments, "Hey, Mr. Kramer; Mrs. Kramer. Yeah, I was at the barbershop when Scott was getting his flattop. At first I thought it was the goofiest, nerdiest thing I'd ever seen."

"Got THAT right," Scott says, still simmering.

Kevin continues," But after awhile I started to like the looks of it. I brushed my hand across the top of Scott's head and it felt great! All soft an' stiff an' furry."

"Yeah, he did that several times," Scott adds, giving Kevin a scolding look.

"So I decided I wanted to get a flattop, too," he swipes his hand across his stubbly landing strip, giving a little whistle for emphasis,"[threeet!]."

Scott's mom looks at Kevin's flattop approvingly, "Such a good looking haircut, Kevin. Just as good as Scott's. I'm sure you'll both be the envy of all the other boys at school."

Scott rolls his eyes, "After they're done laughing, they'll probably beat us up and stuff us in a locker." He turns to head down the hallway, "C'mon Kevin. The Butch Wax is in the bathroom."

"Butch Wax?" Scott's dad asks, "So yer gonna use my old jar of Butch Wax, huh Kevin?"

"Yeah. Jack used a little bit on my hair at the barbershop to make it stand up and look kinda shiny. Scott said I could borrow yours... that is, if yer not using it."

"No, no. Be my guest; I'm not using it. Haven't used it in years; not since I grew my hair out to this tapercut. Go easy on it though, that jar is about twenty years old now. I suspect it's even more potent after all that aging. Don't want ya to pass out from the fumes," he smirks.

Steve Kramer then launches into one of his 'tall tales': "Yep. Good ol' Butch Wax. It'll make a man out'a ya. Inhaling all those powerful fumes will put hair on yer chest, Kevin."

Kevin, ever gullible, looks on with wonderment as Scott's dad continues, "A couple months from now you'll be sportin' a chest o' hair that would make a grizzly bear green with envy. When ya bend over to tie yer sneakers you won't be able to see yer shoes through all the long thick hair protruding from yer chest."

Kevin pulls the neckline of his shirt outward and looks down at his chest, "Far out!... ya think?"

Scott rolls his eyes yet again, "Sorry to burst yer bubble, Kev; Butch Wax will not grow hair on yer chest. Dad's just tellin' another one of his tall tales." He shoves Kevin's shoulder, "C'mon, he-man. Yer magic ointment is this way."

As they head down the hallway, Scott's dad calls after them, "Hey Kevin? Leave a little of that Butch Wax here for Scott. His chest is as bare as a baby's bottom; maybe it'll put a little hair on his chest, too."

From down the hall, Scott replies sarcastically, "Har, har. Good one, Dad." Hearing another one of his dad's tall tales rekindles the anger he's feeling about being tricked into getting flattopped. He is close to lashing out at him again but keeps his temper under control.

Once inside the bathroom, Scott and Kevin look at themselves in the large mirror, "Geez," Scott says, gazing at their flattops, "Look at us."

"Yeah," Kevin replies, lowering his head to get a good look at the landing strip running down the middle. He reaches up and pats the top, "Pretty cool, huh!"

Scott can't believe Kevin actually enjoys their flattop haircuts. He frowns in puzzlement and turns to look at his friend, "You're weird, Kevin. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"You mean today?"

"Ever!"

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

Scott pulls open one of the drawers next to the sink and rummages around through the aspirin bottles, toothpaste, and band-aids, "I know it's in here somewhere; I remember seeing it a year or two ago." After a few more seconds he spots the pinkish-orange jar of Butch Wax at the back of the drawer, "Here ya go, Kev." He hands him the jar.

Looking in the mirror once again, Scott reaches up and presses his palm down against his half-inch 'bangs' at the front of his hairline.

"What're ya doin'?" Kevin asks.

"Tryin' to see if I can make my hair lay down in front... the hair on top is hopeless; it's only a sandpapery stubble along the landing strip. I figure it'll be three months before I can get it to lay down."

Kevin looks at Scott's broad, nearly bare landing strip, "I dunno, your hair is a lot thicker and springier than mine. I bet it'll be more like four months."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Kev." Scott says sarcastically.

Kevin runs his hand up through the plush, tapered pelt at the back of his own head, "I'm gonna keep my flattop for a while; maybe till the end of the school year. I'll have Jack shorten it up every month or so to keep it lookin' good, like it is now. If I can get my dad to pay for it, I'll get it trimmed every couple weeks."

Scott, still pressing his hand against his hairline, looks over at Kevin, "Like I said; yer weird, Kevin." He carefully lifts his hand away from his forehead to see if he's made any progress. His hair instantly springs back to its fully upright position, "Dang."

Back in the living room, still on the couch, Scott's parents are pondering their son's new look, "Wow," Steve Kramer says, "That's some flattop that Jack gave Scott, isn't it. I think that's the biggest, widest landing strip I've ever seen. And did you notice how dark his hair looks now?"

His wife is thinking more about emotions than appearances, "I'm worried about Scott; I've never seen him so angry. I think he's lost respect for us after that trick we just played on him."

Steve downplays his son's reaction, "Aw, he'll get over it. In a couple days he'll get used to his new look and he'll be his old self again, you'll see."

"Except, he won't be his old self again, will he. He'll still have that haircut that he hates so much."

"I'm sure he'll be fine; his buddy Kevin has the same haircut... His parents haven't seen his new look yet, have they? I wonder what they'll think when he shows up sporting a flattop. Kevin's dad wears his hair almost as long as his son's; before the flattop, that is... Maybe I should start to grow my hair out longer, y'know, get with the times. What do you think, Hon?"

His wife playfully runs her finger up through her husband's tapered sides, "I was thinking you should go in the opposite direction," she says with a smile.

Steve turns and looks at his wife, "What; you think I should get a flattop, too?"

"I think it would help Scott get over his anger; seeing his dad with the same haircut," she says, still running her finger up through his hair.

"But I thought you liked my tapercut."

"Oh I do. But I liked it when you had a flattop even more." She gives him a flirtatious wink.

"Is it just me, or is it hot in here?" He says, reacting to his wife's suggestive overtures.

"Maybe you should step outside and cool off... and while you're at it, swing by Jack's for a haircut. I'm sure you'll feel much cooler after you've gotten rid of some of that bulky hair," she smiles.

Steve Kramer jumps up from the couch, "Hold my beer," he says, handing her the can, "I'll be right back." He grabs his car keys, "Don't go anywhere." As he goes out the door he turns and grins, "Guess I'm gonna need a new jar of Butch Wax!"


(To Be Continued)

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