Fifth Friday at Manny's -- The Backstory by Manny

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I had had my eye on the older brother's mane since the pair entered the shop. He was the perfect candidate for my Fifth Friday treat. Lustrous, silken hair like mine -- just above shoulders and almost as long as mine! To see most of it in the dustpan at the end of the day would be quite a thrill.

I had assumed that the duo were in for back-to-school haircuts. Throughout the wait, the younger one struggled to keep his droopy moptop out of his eyes. The older one remained glued to his phone, obviously playing little video-type games.

When their turn came, the older lad assumed the father role and sent the kid brother to the chair first.

"He starts at Holy Name High on Monday -- are you familiar with the grooming code there?" the older lad asked me.

"Sure do. The Oblate Fathers run a tight ship. Short back and sides -- off the brow, ears and collar. Is that correct?" I asked the caped lad.

"Actually, I want it cut shorter," the lad in the chair said in a clear voice. "Coach made some unpleasant remarks about my hair when we had a friendly scrimmage this week. He said something about boys with butch cuts being serious about sports. So...."

He squirmed a bit in the chair, and finally worked up the courage to blurt it out.

"Give me a butch cut -- a #2 all over," the lad instructed as he broke into a huge smile. Obviously, he was pleased with his courage to go very short.

"You sure about that?" I asked, reaching for the clippers. "Mom won't get weepy when you come home without this nice, glossy hair of yours?" I stroked his hair ever so slightly.

The older brother replied from the waiting area, "Hardly! Both my parents hate long hair. They've been after us all summer to get 'decent' haircuts."

I fired up the Oster's and brought them up in front of his eyes which had become wide as saucers. "Once I start, I'm not stopping," I warned playfully.

"It's just hair," the teen laughed.

That was my cue -- I thrust the chattering metal teeth right into the dense locks and pushed the clippers straight down the top of the teen's head. Steady, firm, tight! The power to transform -- it's was I loved about barbering.

The lad smiled broadly as mounds of his honey-colored hair tumbled to the white cape. Clumps collected on his shoulders and then slid down into his lap. He could not stop smiling as he watched his thick moptop give way to a tidy, silken pelt.

I was about his age, nearing 16, when the same thing happened to me.... But there were no smiles at the time, just a small stream of tears as I watched the carnage ensue. My precious hair butchered! Horrible memories.

"You trying out for the football team?" I asked the lad, trying to shake my painful memories. "Shouldn't be hard. Holy Name is not exactly an athletic powerhouse."

"Yep, I have a chance -- and the baldy cut you're giving me should seal it!" he chirped.

I finished mowing the top off, leaving the lad with a comical MPB.

"Maybe this should be my new look!" he quipped from the chair. "Gabe, come see! I look like Grandpa. Take a picture of me like this."

As the pair laughed and enjoyed their fun, my mind again returned to my childhood trauma in the barbershop.

'Make him look like a MAN! By God, we named him Manny yet he's turning into a little miss. Always looking at and admiring his pretty princess hair.' The old geezers in the shop all laughed as I sat there mortified.

'Take him down to the wood -- a #2 all over.' My father's instruction was like a death sentence. The big barber chair was more dreadful than an electric chair. I felt like an inmate who was having his head shaved before the execution. At the end of my transformation, I stumbled out of the chair, feeling my bald head to more taunts from the geezers. At that moment, I wished to God it had been an electric chair instead of a barber chair.

But life has a way of working through situations. My feelings went to work in reversing the pain through the process of developing a haircut fetish; slowly, the fetish reworked the memory of the humiliating haircut into a form of private excitement. In my mind, the shaving of my long hair was a secret thrill which ultimately led me to barber college. Instead of being on the receiving end of transformations, I would be on the giving end! And, I would wear my hair as long as I wished. For years, my thick locks were like a security blanket to me.

But, I learned the hard way that they were also a source of vulnerability. After domineering Robert Holdred -- my first serious partner -- humiliated me with a powerful set of Osters, I lived in fear of being stripped of my long hair.

As the boys took photos of the silly MPB look, I glanced at my gorgeous shoulder-length mane in the mirror. One day I would have the courage of my teen client to instruct the barber, 'Give me a baldy cut -- a #2 all over!' To see it all on the cape...the result of my own command. But, that would have to happen at some later date.

Today, it was his brother I had my eye on. As I whisked the teen's shorn head with a duster and withdrew the cape, I looked at the older brother and said, "Your turn!"

"Oh, I'm not here for a haircut -- not going back to school, you see. I'm a graduate." The older lad pawed at his locks protectively.

"Got your own apartment and a job already?" I asked.

"Working on it," he admitted sheepishly.

"Sitting around playing games on your phone while that mop of hair gets longer?! Come on -- take a seat. You need a haircut," I urged.

He stood and sassed back, "That coming from a man with hair longer than mine! What are you, an aging hippy?!" His impertinent comment stung.

"Gabe, get a baldy cut," the kid brother piped up, still rubbing his hand all over his new stubble. "This feels great! Surprise Dad for his birthday. Mom's baking his favorite cake. They gave you a new car for graduation, and my guess is that you haven't bought Dad a birthday present."

"Gabriel, the chair! SIT!" I said sternly. "It'll be on me, pal -- a free haircut."

His brother's shaming and my command/offer had him shuffling reluctantly towards the chair. "All right, but nothing too short. Understood?" he asked.

"When the cut is free, it's barber's choice," I replied firmly. Then I pointed to the comfortable red leather upholstery.

He hesitated, momentarily. Then, to my delight, he mounted the chair's footrest, eased into the upholstery and began squirm nervously. The cape was quickly fastened to lock him into place. No cold feet.

Then I began to enjoy his gorgeous hair -- brushing through the lovely, pampered locks. The sheen was amazing. So like my own hair....

I took the clippers in hand. "Okay, princess, ready for your haircut?" I snapped the machine on and brandished them menacingly.

"Please, not too short," he begged.

"Twin baldy cuts for the brothers," I announced as I grasped his mane at the back and secured my prey. "Same length okay?"

The question was rhetorical. The clippers plowed down the top of his head and his beautiful hair fell in sheaves to the cape as mine had decades ago.

Gabe's eyes were as wide as saucers as he watched.

"No more princess look for you," I purred as I cleared the top of his head.

"Jimmy, grab my phone and snap a few pix with this MPB look. I want to post my makeover on TikTok!" Gabe said, suddenly converting his unexpected makeover into a fun, pleasurable event.

I wondered whether I would feel so joyful when the day came for me to watch my precious hair tumble to the cape.

As if reading my mind, Gabe asked, "So what about you, sir? When is that princess hair of yours coming off? You might have more clients if you sported a short haircut."

I continued shaving off the silken locks, imagining myself in finally in the chair as a result of my own will. Oh, that would be heaven -- give a clear instruction and watch the makeover transpire.

Then, cold feet struck...

"Not for a while," I answered quickly.

"I rather enjoy it lush and long, Baldy!" I said rubbing his clipped pate.

I glanced at myself in the mirror again. If the day ever came, every silken strand was coming off. I'd make sure I emerged from the chair bone bald and shaved smooth.

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