We're going to download part 1 by Chovanec

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Sorry for the weak English, it's not my native language. I know this story from the narration and I write it in the first person.
My name is Michael. I was born in 1956. I lived with my mother and father. As a small child, until I was about 8 years old, I went to the barber shop with my father, where an old barber worked. When my hair touched the top of my teacher, my mother always said to her father: Take the boy to the barber. When I was cut I always rubbed the back of my head, it was like rubbing sandpaper with my palms. Well, when I was 8 years old, I wanted to have long hair and I started begging my mother not to send me and my father to that old barber. Eventually, my mom took me to her hairdresser's little hairdresser, and my hair grew longer and longer.
In 1969, I was 13 years old. My hair was dark brown, beautifully thick and long up to my shoulders. Many girls envied me. During this period, we moved to another city more than 500 km away for my father's job.
It was Friday and in the new place of work, when we started unloading things from the truck, 2 men came to us, introduced themselves as our neighbors and asked if we needed help with moving. The parents rejoiced and welcomed their help. One of them said: Do you have a beautiful daughter what is her name? I started blushing and my father explained that I was Michael's son. To the neighbors' remark that I have my hair as a young lady, my father replied that before leaving the old town we planned to go to the barber to look neat in the new school, but then we didn't make it and we still have a lot of work to do and we don't even know where he is in near the barber shop. A neighbor said that the barber shop is only 5 minutes away from us and the barber cuts the boys on Saturday. Even his 4 boys have been his regular customers for years. Mother said that the next day in the morning we have to go for other things to bring them in the evening. A neighbor replied that if his parents wanted to help, he could go with them and I could stay with them at home. I would go to a nearby barber shop with his sons. A neighbor praised the barber for being the cheapest in the wider area, doing perfect boyish hairstyles, and many parents lead their sons to cut their hair from a neighboring town. My mother liked the most about all the fact that he is the cheapest barber in the wider area.
When we unloaded everything from the car, the neighbor reminded me that I could sleep with them, I would be with his sons and go to the barber in the morning and return home when my parents returned. In the end, my parents agreed and that I should get the perfect boyish hairstyle from the cheapest barber. He still agreed with them the time of departure for the remaining things from the old house. My mother packed my clothes and hygiene items, and I went with my neighbor two houses next door.
The neighbor had 4 sons. The oldest Adrien was 15 years old were milkers at my age, one called Dario and the other Edgard. The youngest was only 9 years old and his name was Kevin. We introduced ourselves to each other and the boys showed me the room where I spent the night. At first we just talked and later we played. The door to the room was open so the neighbor could be heard calling: Hello. Nicolas. We have a new neighbor called Michael being 13 years old as Dario and Edgard. He needs a haircut because his hair is too long and his parents want him to go to school on Monday and have a decent boyish hairstyle ....... yes he will come with my sons.
When we went to bed for a long time, I thought about what a decent boyish hairstyle is in Nicolas's barber shop. He remembered as a neighbor told his parents that his sons were also his regular customers but their hair was short and I didn't understand why all 4 boys should be there when he was at the barber's. It was enough for one of them to show him where Nicolas's barber shop was.
We ate in the morning and at 9 o'clock Adrien said we were going to see Nicolas. Nobody objected, we all put on our sweatpants, sneakers, shirts and went to the barber. At the end of the street, we turned left into a small square. A large sign was visible in the distance: Nicolas's barber shop. Before we entered the day, Adrien told me to answer the barber with a whole sentence and to address him to Mr. or Mr. Nicolas. So if he gives you a question, you will answer, for example, Yes sir or Yes Mr. Nicolas. I nodded that I understood.
As we entered the barber shop and greeted each other, a 60-year-old barber looked at me through his glasses and said. You will be Michael and you will be my new customer. I replied quickly: Yes sir, what did he tell me to sit down and wait for me to come. I sat down among the boys on a wooden waiting bench. Not only was the barber old, but the barber shop was old-fashioned as well. I began to feel cramps in my stomach, but in my mind I was satisfied that the boyish hairstyle might not be so bad. In the barber shop were 5 gray men waiting for their hair and one lady. I didn't have time to look around the barber shop when the lady got up and went to the barber's office. That's when I noticed a little boy about 6-7 years old jumping off a barber's chair. He had about 2 inches of white arches over his ears and then a small transition of short hair from white skin to the top of his head. I regretted him having his mother cut him like that.
In the old school, there were several boys who went to an old-fashioned barber shop like this, but none of them had such short hair only if it was complete without hair in the summer. Then we talked to the boys in a low voice. When the barber called: Michael's turn, I warned and noticed that the old men waiting to be trimmed in front of me had already left.
I got up, my stomach clenched again, and my leg cramps broke, so I went to sit in the barber's old chair. It was old but quite comfortable.
Where did you go to the barber so far, Mr. Nicolas asked? With Mom to her barber, sir. You look like a young lady. Yes sir. Do you need a boy's hairstyle? The barber had already wrapped me in a white sheet and combed my hair. The barber took electric scissors from the hook, as the barber had once cut me, while I went to the barber shop with my father. He lifted his hair with a comb and walked with electric scissors along the teeth of the comb. My hair began to fall about 8-9 inches long. When he cut them short on my whole head, he cleaned the sail from my hair. I could see in the mirror that my ears were no longer completely covered by hair. The barber tilted my head to one side, shaved my ear, and placed the eclectic scissors on the side of my forehead. He made a wide band over their ears with them, and I noticed a stubble over my ear. He scissors over his ear again. As I noticed an even bigger arc of tiny hairs above my ear, I closed my eyes. In my mind I said to myself: Don't worry, it won't be too short, it's definitely just a bad dream.
The barber put my head on the other side and I felt like scissors making arches over my ear. Then he pushed my head forward until my chin touched my chest. I can feel the metal of the scissors on my neck. The scissors rise high upside down, this is repeated several times. When the scissors could no longer be heard, he combed the hair on the top of my head with a comb, which he then lifted, and it was heard how hand scissors cut my hair. Combing my hair on the scalp again and I feel the tips of the hand scissors on the upper part of my forehead as they run through my forehead. The electric scissors sounded again, I could feel the comb and hear the scissors pass along the ridge from one side over my back to the other side of my head.
As the barber brushed the tarpaulin around my neck, I thought it was over. I opened my eyes and saw a strange boy in the mirror. He could see almost his entire forehead and the bangs caught up straight. About a inch long hair on the top of the head. I immediately thought how all 4 of my neighbor's boys would laugh on the way home. But the barber is already applying white foam over my ears and the back of my head. As he gradually removed the foam with the razor, I saw arches of white skin over 2 inches above my ears. In the end, the barber wiped away the remnants of the foam and rubbed some liquid on the rest of my hair. Finally, he combed my hair on the top of my head. When he freed me from the sail and got up from my chair, I looked at the brothers on the waiting bench. But there were only three of them sitting there, and none of them laughed at my hair. When I came to the boys I asked where Kevin was and they pointed to the barber's chair. The scissors were already sounding, and I noticed how the barber began to cut his hair over one ear. It didn't take even 5 minutes and Kevin went to be replaced by Dario. I watched the hair on Kevin's head intently, stroking my hips and back of my head looking for my hair. I won't change until I hear: What are you still looking for? I look behind the voice and Dario, the haircut, is already smiling at me. She has the same hairstyle as Kevin. Then Dario adds. All five of us leave with the same boy's hairstyle. I started looking at the pictures on the walls, there was also a boy's hairstyle, as we have, but there were also 6 pictures of short military hairstyles. As Adrien sat in the chair, I watched intently as the barber cut his hair. Above the ears large arches, 4/5 of the back of the head without hair cutting hair on the scalp, cut off bangs about 3/8 inch long. Gradual about 1/2 inch high transition from stubble to the top of the head, applying and shaving foam. Soaking hair and combing. Dario was right, our hairstyles are the same. I remembered how sorry I was for the little boy who was trimmed on our arrival. Now I realized that we are the same. Before leaving the barber shop, Adrien paid for all 5, then we thanked each other, greeted each other and went home.
When my parents noticed me, they just smiled and thanked the neighbor for arranging my haircut. He said I could go with his boys again in 5 weeks. My mother was very pleasantly surprised by the low price for the hairstyle and decided to go to Nicolas's barber shop. I was sure that I would talk to my mother and change this decision, and I would have long hair again. Even as a little boy, I have never had such a highly shaved head and a short hairstyle. I was afraid of how I would be welcomed in a new school with this drastic hairstyle.

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