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Rev. Battersea Makes the Cap Fit by Manny

A continuing story. Previous chapters include:

Chapter 1 - Jack Opts for Change
Chapter 2 - Mr. B or Mr. Baldy
Chapter 3 - Rev. Battersea: Barber, Buddy or Both
Chapter 4 - Jeremy's Raven Locks Raise Funds
Chapter 5 - Coach’s MPB Fringe Falls Amid the Fun
Chapter 6 - Erik Gets to Know and Look Like the Locals


"A big round of applause for Mr. Courtwright who funded the church's new baseball team uniforms," Rev. Battersea urged the motley group of assembled boys and men.

Lots of cheers for the donor of the new uniforms ensued.

"We'll meet tomorrow at the parsonage at 6 pm for our first big match against the Baptists. With a congregation three times our size, it's going to be tough, but we can do it together. And come wearing your new uniform!"

More whoops of enthusiasm accompanied by high fives erupted.

"The good news is that we have 15 uniforms and 15 players. But, since we didn't know who would exactly would show up, Mr. Courtwright purchased 15 random sizes. You might not get an exact match. Just make do with it as best you can. The material does stretch," Rev. Battersea announced.

After all the uniforms were snapped up save one, Rev. Battersea grew skeptical about the fit. It was a small. The spandex would be snug as skin -- at least he had a buff body -- nothing to be ashamed of! Hopefully the size of his pecker would not become an issue with some of the fans. But the cap was definitely not going to work....and, as team captain, he needed to sport the cap!

Rev. Battersea made a futile attempt to make it fit, to no avail. Pushing the thick, dense forelock up off his forehead improved the fit, a bit. The cap would now go on, but it was incredibly tight, giving the minister a bit of a head ache. There was no way, at this late date, unless....

Rev. Battersea's heart pounded fast. He ran his fingers through his dense, sexy mahogany locks that covered his head like a thick winter hat. Stripping off the dense padding of hair could certainly make the baseball cap fit! He suddenly was overwhelmed with an urge to feel the clippers mowing off his sexy locks.....right up the back of his head, down to the wood, shaved smooth, if necessary!

Rev. Battersea gathered his things and hurried to his car, his heart still beating quickly. He looked in his rearview mirror. He knew his locks were as good as gone. He was already scheming to effect a complete transfer from head to cape. Al would be his ally in making the cap fit. The barber had mentioned after church on Sunday that he was looking a bit shaggy.

Rev. Battersea's mind returned to his first ever haircut at Al's when the barber commented that he'd like to administer his signature haircut on the reverend. 'A flattop. I think it would go very nicely on you. You’ve got the right kind of hair and head shape for it. And I think the flattop commands a lot of respect, at least it does in this town,' Al had said.

Finally, a flattop! There would be no hesitation about shedding his sexy locks for his first one ever. Sides stripped clean and a plush top, erect like a crown beneath, the cap! Rev. Battersea's excitement grew exponentially as he thought of himself getting shorn down close again after a year of growth. Watching his thick brown hair hit the cape and creamy colored scalp appeared again would be heavenly. And thank goodness for the billowy cape to conceal the personal excitement during the divestiture.

Back at the parsonage, Rev. Battersea gathered together the cash he would need in the morning to pay Al for the haircut plus a generous tip. In the three years he'd been in the small town, he was preparing for his third brutal assault on his abundant tresses. First had been the charity head shave, then he'd made things up to Erik with the High 'n Tight, and now he would have his locks shorn to make the small baseball cap fit.

He ducked into the bathroom and flicked on the light. His hair was in full display. Rev. Battersea recalled his last divestiture, when Barber Al combed the forelock straight down and snipped it off first almost at the hairline. The whole curtain of hair had fallen from his face to the cape in mere moments.

Rev. Battersea took the brush and ran it through his locks a few times. His bangs fell to just below the eyebrows. He felt frenzied as he rummaged through the drawer in the vanity. Where were his scissors? Then he went to procure a few cutting instruments from his own barber kit in the hall closet. Why should his dreamy forelock last another 12 hours?

Rev. Battersea returned to the bathroom with a pair of regular shears, as well as a pair of thinning shears. He would not arrive at Al's sporting such a copious and glorious lock!

He seized the thinning shears and unleashed a prolonged session on his fringe. The first chop with the silver serrated blades felt awesome. Oh, what fun watching the thick forelock being aggressively thinned by his own hand! He whacked away at it repeatedly and then combed out the damage. The sink was soon covered with his shorn hair. Over and over, he snipped at the once-mighty forelock. He felt quite excited about the way his bangs were now thin -- almost see-through. No more thick, sexy look. A think wispy fringe, instead.

And then the shears. SNIP, SNIP, SNIP. Off the bangs came to a very, very short length! Mid-forehead. He looked wonderfully dorky!

For good measure, his hand trembling, the bangs were sliced off again, even shorter, to a mere third of their original length.

But why stop there? He grabbed another lock that hung down over his ear and took the thinning shears to it. Then on the other side, followed by some random chops in back. So much fun!

He tried on the hat. Yes, it fit better....but there was still lots of glossy hair emerging from the sides and back. Mounds of it. Rev. Battersea imagined himself sporting nothing but shaved scalp on the lower part of his head when he led his team onto the diamond the next day to take on the Baptists!

He slept fitfully that night, and was at Al's right at opening time the next day.

"Al, I need your help! Desperately! The church baseball team deserves to be led by a captain whose cap fights right. See my problem?" Rev. Battersea asked as he tried to pull his cap on.

"Too much bulky hair!" Al exclaimed. "Take a seat. I'll have that cap fitting you just right in a matter of minutes."

Then Al did a double take of the woefully short fringe.

"What happened here?" the barber asked.

"I got anxious last night and started chopping away at the fringe," Rev. Battersea explained. "Then, I realized I needed your professional approach replete with fast feed clippers to strip away all this thick, bulky hair on the sides and back."

"The good Lord surely did bless you with a fine mane of hair, Reverend!" Al commented as he fastened the cape into place.

"And, you told me it was perfect for a flattop," Rev. Battersea said. "I'm ready for your signature cut."

Al smiled broadly and reached for the clippers.

"A deep pile 'pretty boy' look, or a mean and manly Marine look?" Al asked.

"Let's split the difference. Just a slight landing strip. Clippers grazing the very top up here, lightly," the reverend said, as he reached out from under the cape and tussled his own locks for the last time.

Once the cape was on, Rev. Battersea's pecker came out to play. Almost instantly, he had a baseball bat to contend with under the cape.

"Should we start with a #2 on the sides and back to see if that will work?" Al asked

"I'm pressed for time, Al. Take it straight down to #000! No hair on the sides and back -- just on top," Rev. Battersea commanded.

Al complied. A #000 blade screamed right up the back of the Reverend's head. He had to contain himself so as to not leave a wet spot on the cape right then and there.

"The lady admirers aren't going to like this," Al said, with a bit of a tsk-tsk in his voice. "I heard two of them discussing your hair a few weeks ago -- Mrs. Nelson, that young divorcee with two boys, and Nellie Green, the spinster librarian. They hated the bald head, but understood the charity shave and even thought it was mighty sweet of you. But the High 'N Tight was a total mystery too them."

"I hope they like the flattop!" Rev. Battersea exclaimed.

"Doubtful. The men will admire it, though. That mop-like metrosexual shag appeals to most women, but not the men. In this town, there are only two lengths for 'real' men -- short and super short. Period," Al said with authority in his voice

"That's mighty convenient for you, eh, Al? Needing constant trips to your barber shop to stay trim," Rev. Battersea chided playfully.

By then, the barber had cleared the sides and back and took to chopping down the top to a much shorter length. With scissors and comb he started shear away the length. More hair accumulated on the cape.

"So, you're playing the Baptists this evening. I might just close down the shop early and watch the game. You know, the pastor there also trained as a barber before he entered the minister. Rev. Brown. When I go on vacation, he fills in for me here," Al said.

"Should I try him out?" Rev. Battersea asked.

"If you don't like my work, I suppose you should," Al replied, a bit hurt. "But, with the way you let your hair grow to such long lengths, I'm sure my annual two-week fishing trip will not be something you can't wait on for me to return."

That comment definitely got Al's goat and the rest of the haircut ensued in silence.

Of course, leveling the top was the part the required the most concentration. Taking the top down flat....carefully, carefully, slowly, shorter, but not too short, a little more....

Rev. Battersea noticed Al's hand shaking. Oh, dear. He was rattled. He shouldn't have talked about trying out Rev. Brown when he was pinch hitting with the clippers.

And then it happened. A shriek arose, "BLAST IT! Blast it all to hell!" The barber cursed, and the damage was immediately evident. There was no light grazing....no trace of a landing strip. There was a massive, wide, bald swath of skin! A landing strip fit for a jumbo 747!

Al was extremely flustered and could hardly look at the minister or continue the haircut. He blubbered a bit.

Fortunately, Rev. Battersea knew just how to handle the situation!

"Al, I had just been thinking that I wanted a full-fledged military length flattop. In fact, I was going to ask you if you might not give me a shoe. But, I didn't want to disturb your concentration," he said, hoping to help the barber save face and recover from the awful gouge on top.

Al's nervousness and anxiousness immediately subsided. "Oh, that's a relief! I was just... Oh, my, I was going to, uh..... Well, a shoe it will be!"

"With all the scalp lather shaved? If that's not too much trouble," Rev. Battersea requested in his sweetest voice possible.

"Do you know what a great fellow you are, Reverend?" Al gushed, obviously relieved that the mistake was quickly covered. "The church congregation has nearly doubled in size since your arrival. This haircut is on me. Free of charge!"

When the foam was scraped away and the moist towel cleared the scalp, Al proudly showed off the shoe he had carved out of the minister's sexy long locks. The newly exposed scalp was so white! Al brandished the hand mirror which displayed every angle. It was severe, and it was short. Ultra-short. Radically short. Rev. Battersea felt pumped up and energized.

When he emerged from the chair, he handed Al $25.

"I said it was free," the barber protested.

"That's just a tip," Rev. Battersea said as he shook the barber's hand and then put on the baseball cap which fit perfectly. He glanced down at the huge collection of cut hair -- his hair! -- around the base of the chair. "See you at the game, Al!"

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