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John's Attractive Nuisance by Manny

Kevin always used the same check-out line at the local grocery store. It wasn't because of some bizarre ritual but because he enjoyed eyeing and interacting with his favorite cashier. And he always took the some route on his way into the store along the line of check-out registers. That way, his first site of John was from the back with his plush mane of thick dark hair falling past his shoulders. It was the type of hair that might be featured in a shampoo commercial -- heavy, shiny and oozing with health. As the longhaired cashier reached for the food items, his locks would tumble and shimmer all in a wonderfully enticing manner. Kevin thought that John was one of the few men he knew who could sport long, lush locks and still look manly.

The most exciting part of his visit to the grocery store would be at check-out, when the cashier would chat with him as he scanned the items. Kevin noted that John seemed to smile more and come to life as he entered the check-out line. Furthermore, the cashier often slowed down his pace and took his time to have a decent conversation. John's dark brown eyes would sparkle as they peered through the massive forelock that was forever obliterating the left side of his handsome, Mediterranean face.

Ironically, the fantasy Kevin would engage in as they talked, as well as after he left the store, was of watching dear John caped up in an old fashioned barbershop and watching the beautiful hair fall in the wake of a set of powerful clippers. In Kevin's fantasy, it was his own barber -- grumpy old Henry -- who did the honors of shearing the longhair down to the wood. John would be shedding copious tears as quickly as he shed his copious locks. The lad -- stunned and silent in the chair, helplessly watching as his treasured hair piled on the white cape -- was a thought that excited Kevin to no end!

Imagine Kevin's total shock one day to enter the grocery store and see John standing at his usual register but almost unrecognizable. Yes, the name tag on the blue smocked uniform was the same. But John stood there butched! The long hair gone! He'd been clipped down all over to a single length, no more than a quarter of an inch, like he'd been subjected to an amateur garage haircut!

Kevin was stunned and almost bumped into another client as his eyes riveted on John's shorn head. He'd been given a baldy haircut!! And did he ever look miserable. There was no smile on his face. His eyes appeared somewhere between empty and angry. He hardly engaged with any of the customers. The long hair had been brutally obliterated and the joy of life was gone!

Kevin spent extra time going through the aisles, trying to sneak peaks of John's baldy and trying to figure out what to say when he finally checked-out. There was no way he could ignore the dramatic shearing. Nor did he want to! Kevin needed to find out what had happened to the treasured tresses. His heart went out to the poor, shorn cashier. He looked so pathetic and miserable....coincidentally, the very same look John had in the fantasy after old Henry had finished stripping him of his prideful locks.

When Kevin saw that John had no customers, he darted to his check-out lane. As he walked up, Kevin gasped, "I almost didn't recognized you, John!"

The cashier grimaced. "That makes two of us," he muttered with a tinge of bitterness. He touched his shorn head hesitatingly. "Still seems unreal."

"Well, what was the inspiration?" Kevin probed.

"Inspiration?! Huh! The cause was him -- " John said angrily as his eyes darted over to the booth where the store manager hung out. "We're under new management. Mr. Snyder. Look at him -- need I say more to explain?!"

Kevin glanced over and saw a middle aged man who sported an obnoxious red bow tie and a very fussy flattop. It was the type that was caked with butch wax so that it stood erect and glossy. Every short hair in place and at attention. The whole look seemed to portray a meticulous manager who bordered on anal retentive. "Oh my!" gasped Kevin. "Is he former military, police or what?"

"He's a nightmare. The ogre started a few days ago and began tearing things to shreds around here right away -- making changes, bossing people about, telling us all to 'get with the new program' -- whatever that means. Hell, if I weren't in a tight financial bind, I would have quit on the spot."

"And he ragged you about your hair?" asked Kevin rhetorically.

"Among a dozen other things. Told me to cut it or wear a hairnet! As if...." muttered John.

"So, everyone needs to get military haircuts?" asked Kevin.

"Oh, that's another story....almost worse than the Mr. Snyder chapter on my misery index right now. Oh s**t -- here comes the beast. I must not be working fast enough. He keeps spouting off about making this place more profitable," John said abruptly, cutting off the chat and getting back to the check out.

"John!" boomed the voice from behind. The authoritative footsteps closed in on them. "After you're finished with him, clock out. No need for you to hang around with so few people in the store, especially when you waste company time with idle chit chat."

"But, Mr. Snyder. I still have two more hours on my shift," the cashier protested.

"Not today you don't. I'm not guaranteeing eight-hour workdays anymore. If there's no work, you're going home. Don't give me lip either, or the only line you'll be seeing is at the unemployment agency." The militant man marched away.

Kevin whispered, "You could use a beer. My treat. See that green Chevy out there. I'll wait for you to clock out....."

"Thanks, I'd like that....." said the cashier as he bagged the last food items and began cashing out his register.

Kevin's heart beat quickly as he waited in the car. He'd finally get to know John better -- and best of all find out what how the brutal assault on his dreamy locks had been carried out.

Once they'd been served their beers at the tavern, Kevin picked up the conversation where it had left off in the store. "So you said there was something or someone other than Mr. Snyder adding to your misery?"

"Yeah....one of those 'when it rains, it pours' scenarios. His name is Gene, the guy I share an apartment with. We've never had any problems -- he's a cool guy, reasonable, has bailed me out financially once or twice. Good guy. We've shared an apartment for almost two years now. So, Tuesday, when I came back traumatized for the second day of enduring the new regime at work and was venting about the outrageous hairnet requirement, Gene had zero sympathy. In fact, he almost seemed to take Snyder's side....something like 'sounds like the guy knows what he's doing'. Then Gene piled on and told me I needed "a real haircut"....how he was sick of my hair clogging up the drains and waiting forever for me to finish up in the bathroom. How he can't stand it when the hairblower droans on and on while he's trying to sleep in the morning. I mean, the guy had never mentioned any of that to me before, but suddenly he was on my case saying he too wanted my long hair cut off. And he offered to give me a haircut himself!"

Kevin murmured some appropriately sympathetic phrases while he noticed how different John looked without all the hair. Instead of playful and confident, John seemed vulnerable and boyish. Kevin secretly wished he could rub dear Johnny's butch, but resisted. "So how did you react?" Kevin asked.

"I instinctively blurted out 'fine -- if you want to cut it, be my guest!' A fit of frustration, I guess.... And, I truly think at that minute, when I said that, I wanted him to administer the big chop. I was sick of the nagging at the store and also taken aback by Gene's reaction. So, Gene told me to take off my shirt -- that he'd be right back. And the next thing I knew, he was plugging in a set of hair clippers. Then I got cold feet. I could feel my silken hair on my shoulders and thought to myself -- 'hey, he's going to shave off the lot! -- you better do something quick.' And I tried..."

"What did he do, hold you down by force and buzz you?" asked Kevin hopefully.

"No, he just bowled over my weak attempts to de-rail the haircut....." explained John.

"Like how?" Kevin asked persistent to find out more.

"Well, Gene snapped on the machine and I said something like, 'hey, I don't want to be bald'....and he just kept coming and gripped my head and replied something like 'buzzcuts are really practical, you'll see'. And then I felt the clippers going up under my long bangs and saw them falling away and watch them hit my lap. I was like totally freaked out, but trying not to show it, as he drove the clippers straight back across the top of my head; masses of my hair were falling on all sides of me. Like I was in total shock. It all happened so quickly. And Gene was like a maniac, clipping away....thrusting my head this way and that....in total control, towering over me. I was totally limp, and he was on a mission to leave me like this," John said feeling his buzzed head.

"And he did!" remarked Kevin. "Man, that's one short buzzcut -- the type my uncle used to give me as a boy at the beginning of the summer in his garage! Gene must have used a #2 clipper guard on you."

"Well, no clipper had ever come near my hair before I sat on that kitchen chair, helpless and submissive. As you can imagine, I'm a salon junkie who loves to have my hair gently washed in the shampooing booth, conditioned with some wildly expensive product and then trimmed lightly. But, Gene put an end to all that in less than five minutes. After he snapped off that instrument of torture, he just put his stuff away and left me sitting there, like a bald dork who got stuck with the clean up. I felt almost sick when I was dumping panfuls of my shorn hair into the trash. Then, seeing myself for the first time, my stomach churned....."

"Do you mind if I say something?" asked Kevin rhetorically. "I think you look cute -- shorn. With a sweet 'little boy' look that's innocent and playful." John blushed, but seemed to like the compliment. Kevin continued, "Not that I'm saying you didn't look great with long hair. In fact, your hair is amazing!"

"Was amazing...." remarked John scornfully.

"No! It is amazing now, as well, just in a different way. I'd like to rub it...." Without waiting for permission, Kevin playfully reached up and satisfied his curiosity by stroking the stubbled top. "Oh, it feels fantastic!"

John smiled weakly. "And to be honest, it is so much easier to deal with than long hair....."

"I'll bet -- what....two minutes instead of ten minutes in the morning?"

"Ten?! Hell no, my hair would take at least a half hour between washing, combing, drying and styling....and now, it doesn't even take 10 seconds!" explained John. "I have to admit, though, it felt so weird at first. I mean, after losing a few pounds of hair, I was totally lightheaded and my scalp felt so sensitive to the chill from the a/c. The first night I put my head on the pillow and there was no long silken hair there, it felt totally weird. Like I was all alone and lonely. I fondled the bristles for hours before I finally fell asleep." He paused and then looked earnestly in Kevin's eyes and asked, "Do you really like it, Kevin?"

"I really like you, John!" he answered spontaneously. "If you're still sore with Gene, I've got room at my place. And, if you're still sore with Mr. Snyder, I think I can help you on that front too.....cut him down to size and teach him a lesson."

"Huh?!" sputtered John.

"I'm a lawyer, John. How do you think Mr. Snyder might react to getting a letter from me on behalf of my client threatening a harassment-based lawsuit because of the hostile work environment he's created? The man made your life living hell, badgered you into cutting off your beautiful hair and then is basically taking away your livelyhood by sending you home when the shoppers get sparse. He's going to turn a profit on your back. And he's probably secretly laughing at your baldy haircut! Telling his codger buddies about how he forced you to shed your hip look...."

"It does look ridiculous," whimpered John, suddenly deflated. "I feel like a dork and look like an eight year old! How would you like it if I got Gene's clippers and gave you a baldy?!" There was an awkward silence. Kevin squirmed, not knowing what to say. John continued, as he eyed Kevin's pampered executive style, "Your hair is always so carefully coiffed....unloading your grocery cart, ever strand perfectly in place. You must use hairspray.... A baldy cut would put an end to all your morning fuss too! Would you like that?"

Kevin's meticulously groomed businesscut was now in the spotlight -- his thick hair, slightly wavy and combed to the side. Heavy on top and neatly tapered around the ears. And the lovely chestnut color. "Would I like it?" Kevin stammered, struggling for time to consider a response.

Kevin's heart beat wildly and his throat felt dry. He imagined himself submitting to a brutal butch cut like John had been given. How could a high power attorney do such a thing?! It was ridiculous to even consider.....yet, he felt his tongue beginning to stir. Suddenly, Kevin felt overcome and heard himself say, "If you want to cut it, be my guest." His heart beat quickly, almost in a panic. He wanted to retract the offer, but simultaneously wanted to show solidarity with John. He was offering up his fussy businesscut in order to cement his developing friendship.

"I'm no barber. But, if you want to cheer me up and make me laugh, let me take you to a proper barbershop and tell the barber to give you a haircut just like Mr. Snyder's!" proposed John with a very broad smile.

"What?!" exclaimed Kevin, genuinely taken aback by the unusual request. "Why?"

"No reason. I just think it would be fun -- watching your nice, tidy executive haircut falling to the cape," John purred as he reached up and mussed Kevin's carefully combed coif. "Then, I'd like to dress you in a white shirt and snap on a red bowtie....."

The idea excited him, and Kevin moved the concept forward. "And I'd bark at you, John, when we got back to your pad. Grab Gene's clippers and take you down another notch -- reduce this bristled pelt to mere stubble!" exclaimed Kevin. "Your head would feel like sandpaper when I finished with you!"

"Oh, in a freaky way, that sounds wonderful, Kevin! When Gene had the clippers vibrating firmly against my scalp, it felt so erotic. To have you shave down my whole head to just a hint of stubble....oh, baby! Let's do it!!" cried John as he plopped a twenty down on the tavern table and pulled Kevin towards the door. "But your flattop first. Do you know of a barbershop around here? You -- flat as a board -- and me like sandpaper!"

In a sort of daze, Kevin replied, going along with the flow, "Old Henry's place. He's been itching to put an end to my businesscut for ages...."

When the car pulled up to Henry's Barber Shop, Kevin's heart was racing. His secret desire had always been to get a flattop, but he'd never had the nerve to utter the instruction. He just didn't think a 'radical' style would be appropriate for a staid environment like an attorney's office. What would the partners of his firm say when he walked in with his hair gelled straight up and flat as....Mr. Snyder's?! And, yes, he would finish off the new look with a loud bowtie!! He had never dared do anything wild or impulsive like that before, but here he was at the door of Henry's, and Johnny boy was going to ensure his precious pomp bit the dust. His treasured thick auburn locks clipped and stripped of the body and wave that gave them a special, sophisticated look. The soft feel replaced by greasy butch wax! And the makeover from stylish to geek would extend to his clothes! Oh, yes, he would make himself wear peg leg pants that showed white socks -- and clunky wingtip shoes too. Wouldn't Johnny laugh and point with glee at the real dorky looking man with a fussy flattop looking like he'd just stepped out of 1956? It was sheer madness, but Kevin had never been so excited in his life. He wanted his makeover to be humiliatingly brutal!

The two men pushed the door to Henry's open -- and were confronted by an unexpected site. Mr. Snyder was sitting in Henry's barber chair getting his flattop tidied up! John recoiled and wanted to leave immediately, but Kevin took charge of the situation. He puffed himself up with arrogance and strode straight over to the chair. His elegant attorney's pomp, which he eyed in Henry's big mirror, gave him the final measure of authority. "You are Mr. Snyder, the new manager at the grocery store over on Elm Street."

"That's right," the man answered curtly, without any hint of recognition in his voice.

"I'm Kevin Clarkson, attorney at law. I've been contracted by one of your employees, a cashier named John...."

"....Fields. John Fields. There's only one male cashier....and, I'm happy to say, now he's looking like a proper man since I made him cut off all that ridiculous hair. Men should look like men, don't you think, Henry? If I had my way, all girly boys would be marched in here and given a bootcamp induction cut!" The caped man and barber chuckled.

"Harassment in the workplace is no laughing matter!" interjected Kevin. "In fact, the damages my client can expect out of you for the pain and anguish you've caused willl ruin the store financially....and the charges of assault and battery might see you behind bars!"

"For what?" asked Mr. Snyder, with a slight tremble in his voice. "For merely making him cut off that mop? I did that queer a favor...although to tell you the truth, I'd hope he would quit. Who wants a bunch of homos on staff? And to tell you more, my plan is to have the ladies doing women's work like cashiering and the men doing men's work like stocking. I won't have any girls driving forklifts or carting around boxes. They can cook the little samples to offer in the store. No sir, men ought to be men and women ought to be women -- and they will be as long as I'm in charge!"

Kevin whipped out a note pad and began visibly jotting down Mr Snyder's diatribe.

"What are you doing that for?" asked the barber.

"You heard him. Ranting and raving. You're my impartial witness, Henry. You know his grocery store is within the city limits where there are stiff anti-discrimination laws," said the attorney. "Maybe our little suburbanite Mr. Snyder here lives in a different world where that sort of bigotry is permitted, but the city plays by different rules."

John piped in from the sidelines, "The first thing Snyder did was fire the women who worked in the warehouse."

Mr. Snyder shifted nervously under the cape and began to perspire a bit.

"That's a clear case of discrimination!" pronounced the lawyer.

"Listen," said Mr. Snyder, in a very strained voice. "Maybe, I shouldn't have said those things. I was just joking, you know....."

"You're right -- you shouldn't have said them, but you weren't joking! You actually fired some employees just because of their gender! Oh, I can see the damages racking up into the hundreds of thousands...."

Mr. Snyder's face grew red, "I'm truly sorry. Maybe we can work something out, this little misunderstanding......"

"Work something out, uh? Let me think how we might be able to settle this, while Henry finishes off your haircut," snapped Kevin.

"I was actually done," noted the barber.

"I think not," replied Kevin ominously. "Mr. Snyder, I imagine, is very particular about his fussy flattop."

The barber smiled and nodded. "Even though he's been coming here for years, he gives me about a five minute lecture and instructions at the start of each haircut about just what to do."

"So it would surprise you if he asked you to shave it all off -- down to the wood?!" announced Kevin.

Mr. Snyder gasped and squirmed with dread. He sat frozen.

"Well?!" Kevin demanded as he towered over the cowed store manager. "If you say you're sorry and were just joking....then you might show some penitance....."

In an almost inaudible whisper, Mr Snyder finally croaked out the dreadful instruction, "Shave it off, Henry."

The barber was very happy to apply the balding clippers to Mr. Snyder's very fussy flattop -- right down the center of his head. The mass erection was largely obliterated with one swipe as the caped, cornered manager was humiliated in front of his employee. His trademark flattop, which graced his head like a royal diadem, was stripped off and cast down to the floor.

"For such a good client like Mr. Snyder, you'll certainly go the whole way -- warm towels and lather so that his bald head feels as soft and silken smooth as a baby's butt!" added Kevin once the head was nothing but a five o'clock shadow.

Henry did not disappoint as he scraped the man's scalp clean and ended the ordeal with a sting of witch hazel. "There, you've finally got a new look!" announced the barber.

"Which he intends to keep," added Kevin. As the cape was withdrawn and the flustered man fumbled to pay, Kevin interjected with a condescending tone, "Don't worry, I'll take care of that. Your baldy got you off the hook for possible jail time, but you're still going to pay for the pain you inflicted on my client. He had such beautiful long hair, and now look at him! An amateur butch cut. Once you get my written proposal about a financial settlement for the suffering you put John Fields through, I expect a check by return mail within a week. And, then we'll have more than enough spare cash to pay for your next year's worth of head shaves. That cueball baldy look on you is a keeper!"

Mr. Snyder scurried out of the shop as fast as he could. Kevin was on a high, and John deeply admired the way his new close friend had seized control of the situation and turned the tables on his beastly boss. What a role model he was!

And then he watched Kevin step forward, seemingly confident, towards the chair. "Well, it's my turn now!" The attorney's smile almost masked the anxiety he felt. The adrenalin rush pushed him over the edge and he took a seat. He stared briefly in the mirror at his thick, beautiful pomp that added between an inch or two to his imposing height. His shiney pampered mane was distinguished by graceful waves. As Kevin sat there he affirmed the connection he had felt with longhaired John -- both were evidently very solicitous of their hair and flaunted it almost to the point of vanity. John had guessed correctly. Each morning, Kevin too labored in front of his mirror to craft the waves just ever so for a luscious pomp -- the crowning glory that complemented his expensive business suits and monogrammed gold cuff links. His colleagues had thinning, graying mangy wisps, but his mane was one to envy....

Henry caped him up. "This isn't your usual day, Kevin. Didn't I just tidy you up last Saturday?" the barber asked as he carefully folded down the tissue strip that lined the piping along the cape.

"My friend John thought I needed a change. Why don't you explain to Henry what you had in mind?" said the attorney as he secretly gripped the chair arms under the cape to help steady his nerves.

John stepped forward and flashed a large smile. He plied his fingers into Kevin's plush business pomp. They lingered momentarily as they absored the soft, silken feel. "Kevin needs something a bit more manly. We've both decided that there's way too much hair up here on top....." The fellow seemed to be having fun, dragging the situation out. Kevin began to fidget with his feet on the fancy metal footrest as John teased him.

Henry interjected, "Wow, two of my most predictable clients going for a big change on the same day. That's really something! Kevin here, is another one, just like Barney Snyder, who drones on and one with instructions and reminders to 'go lightly' and not take off too much."

"Barney Snyder!" exclaimed John. "That's it! Kevin will take over his old haircut. Flatten him -- turn him into a clone of Mr. Snyder, the grocery store manager!" John grasped Kevin's thick forelock that was the most copious part of the elegant pomp and extended it up from the top of the head so that it was displayed in its full five inches of glory. "Take this down to here!" he said indicating a length of less than half an inch. The large chunk that had been doomed flopped about anxiously above the pincer finger hold that indicated the forelock's new truncated length.

Henry was quite surprised. "Is that what you want, Kevin? A flattop?" he asked incredulously.

The attorney under the cape gulped. His cock surged. "Yes! Give me a flattop just like Snyder's." And without a word, the old barber slowly swiveled the chair away from the mirror. Kevin felt like he was on death row, being primed for execution. Competing feelings collided within -- excitement that's had finally given the instruction to go flat and sickening feelings about losing his beloved, pampered pomp.

Without warning, Henry shoved Kevin's head down so that the forelock dangled precariously above the cape. The heavy duty balding clippers went to work stripping the executive business cut away, moving tightly up the back of Kevin's prostrated head.

Once the sides and back had been pared down to near the scalp, Henry decided to have a little fun. "John, you seem quite interested in Kevin's haircut. How would you like to play barber apprentice? Come here for a minute to give me a hand with this makeover." John hopped to his feet while Henry pushed Kevin's head down so that his chin almost touched his chest. "This forelock here that's dangling down....grab those shears on the counter over there. I think your friend might want to take away a little souvenier of his old look. Just leave about 3/4 of an inch...."

John grasped the heavy forelock and fondled it. The silken feel reminded him of his old mane. He clacked the shears open and shut a few times, as if to prime the pump. Then, John grasped the five-inch clump with one hand and boldly hacked near the hairline with the shears. The forelock resisted, but John persisted. Finally, the metal blades clamped shut; John pulled the cut forelock away and then displayed the severed chunk right in front of Kevin's face. The graceful waves looked diminished in their detached estate. John looked up at the butchered bangs and laughed to see the jagged tufts that his hack job had left. "Did I cut it off short enough?" John asked the barber.

"Plenty short!" he said with a chuckle. "Kevin here might end up with a bit more of a military looking flattop than Barney Snyder had!"

Kevin's face looked a wreck -- like he was suffering and in anguish with his unorthodox transformation. As John fondled the shorn forelock that he still clutched, he felt sorry.....but very much in love with his friend's sacrifice and solidarity. He rubbed his buzzed head absentmindedly, against the grain. He loved the way that felt -- and it actually soothed him. He watched the barber make Kevin sit up straight and begin the precision work of carving the flat out of the shimmering waves. Tons of hair fell as the barber clipped away at the last stronghold of Kevin's executive look. John chuckled, thinking about what it would be like to dress Kevin up like the dreadful Mr. Snyder. It occured to him that the trendy rimless glasses Kevin wore ought to be ditched along with the executive pomp. Oh, what a site he'd be with thick black plastic frames that were in vogue circa 1956! A total geek with his flattop. Poor Kevin.....

Henry's masterpiece was finally ready to be revealed to the party with the most at stake -- Kevin himself! The old geezer slowly swiveled the chair around. "I hope you like it because there's not much we can do now about it....except shave it smooth like Barney Snyder's new look!"

Kevin was absolutely confounded by the site he saw. He actually looked like Barney Snyder! The flattop was extremely fussy! Henry had loaded a ton of butch wax on it to make it shiny and stiff. On the cape were the remnants of his soft waves and on his head, waxy shiny spikes!

John laughed quietly, watching his friends shocked reaction. Then he asked, "So how do you like the new you, Kevin? Or should I start calling you Barney?!"

The deed had been done. His prissy pomp had been trashed and replaced by a fussy flattop. Kevin smiled, glad that he'd been brave enough to finally go through with something he'd fantasized about for years! "Think how jealous Barney will be when I walk into his office and hand deliver our complaint against him -- he'll see me sporting his trademark flattop and I'll make some disparaging remark about his cueball!"

Despite the wobbly feeling that almost caused him to stumble getting out of the chair, Kevin was glad that he'd been flattened out at John's request. It was superior male bonding at its best. Kevin felt the closely clipped back. "To think, we owe this all to Barney Snyder!"

Kevin opened his wallet to pay for both haircuts. He handed Henry a $50 and told him to keep the change, but mentioned he had a favor to ask.

The barber was delighted with the huge tip. "Sure, anything! What is it Kevin?"

"Could I borrow those balding clippers?" he said, pointing to the huge set of Oster that hung from the counter. "I'll return them first thing tomorrow."

The barber looked a bit puzzled, but leaned over to get them. "I've got mulitple sets of these, Kevin. You've been a great client all these years -- keep them as long as you like!"

Kevin flashed a threatening smile at John, and grasped his arm, as if to hustle him out of the shop. "Come on Johnny boy!" he hissed as he escorted the lad out the door of the shop. "Time for me to peel you down to stubble!"

As the two pulled away from the shop, Kevin softened his tone, "So, what are you going to do with your $50,000 once Snyder pays up for your pain and anguish?!"

"Pain and anguish?!" remarked the boy. "I've never been happier in my life. And I can't wait to feel your strong hands clipping me down to the wood! Totally shorn. All my life protecting and pampering that long hair.....and now I dream of feeling sandpaper-like stubble when you finish taking those balding clippers to my head! I only hope my naked head won't be lonely on my pillow tonight."

"Oh, it won't," purred Kevin.

John squeezed his hand warmly. "Well, the first thing I'm going to do when I get my compensation is enroll in barber college. You'll have your own personal barber keeping that top of yours flat and straight as a board, and those sides and back shorn down to the scalp! Maybe I can take over old Henry's place here when he retires," John said as they pulled away from the shop. He ran his hand across the soft pelt of hair, wondering how it would feel when Kevin had finished reducing it to stubble....

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