Buzz at the barbers by barberboy

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I had recently moved from London to Swansea (a town in Wales) to live with my uncle. To be more precise, my parents made me move. I guess when you're 14 and you get expelled for fighting at your school your parents will be sick of your behaviour. Apparently my uncle will teach me proper manners.

When I arrived in Swansea I met my uncle Keith. He is a big man with short grey hair. He spoke to my dad, saying he'll make me "into a man in no time". He then drove me to his house, which was really a small cottage. It was dark by the time we got there, so he told me to get some rest. In what felt like no time at all, I was woken up, and told to get dressed. After that I was told to get into the car.

"Where are we going?" I asked him

"To the barbers. You are in need of a haircut, boy. You look like a girl"

I touched my brown hair. It was just over my collar at the moment, just the way i liked. I dreaded to see what Keith had in store for me.

We pulled up outside the barbershop. The name of the shop was called "Paul's barbershop" I gulped, but already my uncle was telling me to get inside.

The place was very old-fashioned. It had wood-panelled walls with pictures of short-haired gents; an old waiting bench and, pride in place, three black leather barber chairs. The chairs were facing away from the mirrors. They were also all occupied-old men receiving short back and sides. There were no women-all the barbers were men well into their 60's. I realised I was totally out of place. It didn't take long for the chair nearest the window to be vacated. When it was, my uncle dragged me over to it.

"Hello Keith" the barber said "How are we today?"

"All right, Paul" my uncle said "I would like you to meet my nephew, Matt. He needs a proper haircut by your hand"

"I can't argue with you there" Paul murmured, inspecting my locks. "Well then, get into the chair and we'll see what we can do."

I reluctantly sat on the chair, which was surprisingly comfortable. Paul snapped a white cape around me before tying a tissue to my neck. Meanwhile, my uncle was telling Paul what he wanted.

"He needs to go short-I want him in the ruby team. I want him to be buzzed down, to a number 2 preferably."

"Number 2 buzz?" Paul said "Yes that would look good on him. Nice, short and smart."

I had no idea what they were talking about, but it wasn't sounding good. Paul turned the chair away from the mirror, instead so I was facing the bench. A couple of people were now sitting there, eager to see me "buzzed". Great.

Suddenly, Paul took a large clipper, attached a black comb to it and turned it on. Oh, hell no, I thought. How short will this be?

In answer, Paul placed the clipper near my left temple and moved in up. Brown hair, 6 inches long, started to fall onto the cape and floor. My uncle was nodding approvingly. Soon, more hair started to drop freely. The clippers felt cold as they brushed past my ear. Eventually the curtain of hair that had covered my left ear had been shaved off, leaving only stubble behind. I felt very cold. Paul then moved onto my back. “Put your head forward” he said, before ruthlessly attacking the back of my neck. More brown hair was joining the pile on the floor. I was holding back tears now. Luckily Paul and Keith were deep in conversation.

Eventually the back of my head felt as exposed as my left ear. Paul then told me to sit up again. I closed my eyes as the clippers touched the hair near my right ear, hacking it off. My sense of sadness was now replaced with one of glumness. It wasn't long until the only place where my previous long hair was found on me was the top of my head.

“We could do a flattop” Paul mused “or perhaps a high and tight?”

“He will look much better buzzed” Keith snapped “Finish him off!”

Paul obeyed, grabbing a my forehead and running the clippers through the hair on the top of my head. Clumps of hair, the remnants of my once impressive mane, fell onto the cape in front of me. He made several passes through my hair, each one stripping away a piece of my trendy fringe. Soon only one hunk of hair remained. Paul ran the clippers very slowly through it. I could hear the “bzzzzt” as is went. Soon it was gone, merely a reminder. Paul then swung the chair around so I could see myself.

I couldn't believe what I saw. Mere minutes earlier my face was surround by hair, with a fringe that needed brushing out of my eyes. Now only a centimetre of stubble remained. I realized uncle Keith was right-I looked much better with short hair.


“There we go” Keith said “How does a real haircut feel eh? No more looking like a girl.” He then thanked Paul, whilst paying him a handsome tip. Paul told me to get out of the chair, which I did. I looked at the pile of hair on the floor. How could I have had all that hair for so long? I ran my hand through my (brutally short, it has to be said) haircut. It felt very strange.

“We’ll be coming for regular trims, Paul” Keith sad. Paul nodded, before his attention was diverted to the long haired boy who was now climbing into the chair. The boy stared at my shorn head as I left.

When I got into the car, Keith said “You’ll be keeping that cut boy. I really meant it when I said you’ll be joining the ruby team. Couldn't have you with all that filthy, girly hair of yours. “

“Yes uncle” I said. As we drove home, I felt like a new man. I wondered what else Uncle Keith had in store for me. But, for the moment, I am proud of my new haircut. It looks great on me-no doubts about that!

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