Speechless! by Manny

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There was so much I needed to do to prepare for the convention in Washington that I forgot to order the flags my boss had specifically requested for the stage. There were people coming from various countries, and he wanted a splash of color behind the podium. He would be livid with me....

I started googling and calling around. I was in luck. There was a flag store in Glen Burnie that confirmed they had all the flags I needed. And, it wasn't too far out of my way driving from Baltimore to Washington. I left super early just to make sure there were no glitches, which meant I also avoided the rush hour traffic. I found myself in Glen Burnie, with flags in hand, way ahead of schedule.

I plopped in the car, determined to just sit for a few minutes and relax. Take a breather. Was there anything else I forgot?

As I gazed down at my phone, I noticed my copious forelock dangling. The shining chestnut with fiery auburn highlights....I loved my hair.

Then, the penny dropped. Shoot -- that was it! I should've gotten a trim.

"Look sharp, nice suit," my boss had said. "I don't want a hayseed up on the stage as emcee."

I glanced into the rearview mirror. Beautiful hair -- but too long! Duh....use the extra time to get a haircut -- it was a no brainer.

I looked out the car window and there it was just next door...a huge blue sign on a little yellow house-like structure declaring BARBER SHOP. No name, just the large words over a perky red awning. A neon sign in the window flashed "open". I had been at my destination before I even realized I need to find it.

Since the shop had no name and no road sign was visible, I couldn't check out any on-line reviews. I decided to take my chances and head in. There were quite a few cars parked in front, meaning the place had a thriving clientele -- a very good indication, in my experience.

I smoothed down my chestnut-colored hair and felt the length in back. I good five inches dangled from the nape. I needed more than a trim. I tucked my forelock behind my ear and opened the car door. I hoped the barber had some experience with longer styles like mine.

The shop inside was a lot larger than I had imagined. A traditional checkerboard linoleum floor of olive-green and white was the first thing to catch my eye, followed by the height of the barber. He was SO short.

There was just one barber, despite the three barber chairs.

The white enamel chairs with the same olive-green vinyl upholstery coordinated perfectly with the floor. Obviously, the barber had an aesthetic sense about him, which I felt was another good omen.

Then, I saw the third thing that impacted me. A huge cloth banner hanging to the side of the main mirror behind the chairs with the message: "Don't blame me, I voted for Trump!" Oh no, I hoped I wasn't going to be subjected to any right-wing political agenda. You couldn't find a banner like that in all of Baltimore (or DC either) was my guess.

"Just finishing up here, sir," the short, but handsome barber said.

"Won't be but a few minutes. You can make yourself comfortable there." He nodded toward the waiting area.

There were two men sitting on the bench, and I was pleased to see that one had longish hair, covering his ears and collar. Not quite as long as mine, but almost. A very nice style, really. It was a relief to know the barber had clients who opted for some definite length! The other fellow's hair was very short. He did not look at all like he needed a haircut!

I had just gotten comfortable on a little bench when the door opened and two more men walked in. One was obviously a cop and the other a fire-fighter. Both had military-length hair.

The gent in the chair had fine, wispy silver hair and was getting a traditional man's cut.

Then, I noticed a big poster board that announced, "All haircuts $11." Talk about cheap -- how could the shop afford to stay in business? I guess with a lot of clients -- small margins of profit, but many clients. That was how!

I was checking my texts, just to make sure all the conference preparations were on-track, when I heard the barber asking the gent in the chair if he was satisfied with the haircut. The old man was facing the mirror and nodding his approval.

I put my phone away and got ready to watch the next client take his turn under the green cape. I was curious to see how the man with the longish hair would fare.

To my dismay, it turned out that he was not there for a haircut, but to help his aging father.

"Careful getting down, Pops. Do you need to hold my hand? We can't have you falling on this hard floor," the youngish man cautioned as he flicked his locks back away from his face (the same way I was prone to do).

As the old man was paying, the guy on the bench next to me asked if I was in a hurry. If so, I could go next. Very kind of him, I thought. Why not? I could use the extra time to double check some stuff at the convention location.

The barber looked at the bench in the waiting area and signaled for the next client by tapping the seat of the chair and snapping the cape about like a torreador. I stood.

"He needs a haircut more than I do," the guy on the bench laughed.

"Come on, then, take a seat," the short barber said in a jovial mood.

I noticed the large array of clippers -- big, menacing looking machines -- hanging from the counter. None of those would be needed for my haircut, I thought to myself.

"My name is Chris. First time here, right?" the barber asked.

"Yep, was just buying some flags next door and saw this place," I replied as I took a seat. "Thought I could use a trim, and, voila....here I am."

The barber cast the olive-green quickly about my neck and took the big metal clip from the pocket in his barber jacket.

As he was fastening it snug, he said, "You know what Johnson next door told me? With Trump in office, he sold twice many of old glory. You know, to people proud of the flag. To guys ready to die for the flag. This woke lot now wants us all feeling ashamed of our country...."

Chris took a pair of shears and primed them vigorously as he preached his 'America, love it or leave it' message.

Oh brother, I thought to myself.....just what I was afraid of....right-wing rants! I cringed but stayed quiet. No sense trying to reason with him -- his mind was made up.

The cop in the waiting room piped up. "John Schneider -- you know, good ole boy Bo Duke who used to race around in the 'General Lee' -- he has a new movie out about that very thing. None of those liberal trans-idiots in Hollywood would produce it, so he did it himself."

My mind was churning, wondering if there was any getting out of the place before the haircut got underway.

Then, I felt the shears whacking off the hair in back! I mean, they were right at the nape, removing all the length!

I had said 'a trim' -- or had I?! I felt instantly dizzy.

The firefighter joined the conversation. "And in the movie John gets his signature 'Bo Locks' chopped off just like Chris is doing to the fellow in the chair now. Sheees! Look at all that hair falling to the floor! Give him the same high 'n tight like in the movie, Chris. Have you seen it?"

"That's what I call a movie worth watching!" the barber said enthusiastically.

Then, I felt my head pushed down!! It was bowed low, facing the cape that covered my lap.

"Yep, the haircut scene was my favorite part," Chris quipped. "Although the deck got left a little long for my taste."

I was stunned! Certainly, I wasn't going to be getting a high 'n tight!

I should have said something immediately, but everything happened so quickly.

A set of clippers roared to life. A dreadful, buzzing sound that projected fury and power filled the shop. 'Don't mess with my clippers!' the noise screamed out.

Without any more dangling locks at my nape, the clippers had easy access.

I was in a numb, stupefying trance -- still wondering if I in fact was heading towards a high 'n tight without my slightest input or consent.

My answer was instantaneous. The machine was pushed straight up the back of my head -- all the way to the crown! I was aghast and clung to the arms of the chair to steady myself.

All I could picture was a white strip of scalp surrounded my beautiful flowing chestnut locks on either side.

Chris was like a maniac, clearing away all vestiges of hair from the back of my head. I kept gripping the arms tightly when another dynamic hit my like a right hook.

I was hard as a rock under the cape! The whole situation had somehow aroused me intensely.

"All this girly hair is staying behind with me," Chris crowed. "You can fly your flags high -- on your truck, on your front porch, wherever you want! And, you'll have a patriotic haircut to match! Our bravest men go into battle fighting for 'liberty and justice for all' sporting high 'n tights! It's a haircut to be proud of -- you can live with your head held high!"

Finally, I got up enough courage to speak, "But I came here for a trim. Just a trim!" I said as forcefully as I could.

"Hey, it's all the same price. Just $11 bucks -- if I cut off 8 inches or 1/8 of an inch, you pay the same," the barber said, thinking that would somehow make sense.

The clipping continued around my ears. Mounds of my beautiful chestnut-colored hair with fiery auburn highlights piled up in my lap. I felt physically nauseous and sexually stimulated, at the same time.

"I just wish Bo Duke would've gotten a high 'n tight back when he was a rascal running around Hazzard County," the third guy on the bench said. "All that fluffy blond hair on the cape. And that Boss Hogg had a barber chair in his office! I miss shows like that. Hell, the car got canceled and so did General Lee himself! Did you read that woke mob of politicians took down all his statues in Richmond?"

The Christ snagged my forelock with a comb and took the clippers down the teeth, very close to the scalp. The mass of hair fell off before my astonished eyes.

"There, no more hair blocking your vision," he smirked.

I stared at the lifeless shank of hair in my lap. Somehow this was happening to someone else, I tried to convince myself....or it was a bad dream.

The short barber reached to apply clipper over comb to the top of my head and remove all remaining length and bulk.

"He's looking like a man now," the cop sniggered.

"It's a nice hot day out there, pretty boy. You won't feel the humidity one bit with such a crisp high 'n tight," the firefighter added.

"He pranced in here dreaming about the nice sheen his girly boy hairstyle had and will strut out of here rubbing nothing but bristles with manly testosterone flowing!" the third man remarked.

All the taunts made me feel even more erect, more aroused. I started having fantasies....on my knees in front of the cop, my hands cuffed behind my back....and my mouth eager to service him. He had such wonderful piercing blue eyes. And his hair....brutally short. His taunts were like love messages.

Then I felt the clippers graze the top of my head. And again, and again!

Chris paused and smiled as he surveyed his job. "I bet you anything you are going to thank me for this haircut. The transformation is totally awesome."

"Really?" I croaked in a doubting voice.

"So, here's your choice...." The barber swiveled the chair to the mirror.

I was SPEECHLESS -- in total denial. That couldn't be me!! I looked more stripped and streamlined than the manliest jarhead in Full Metal Jacket!

"Like it is....or lather shaved on the sides, back and top?" the barber asked.

There was no way I could get up and leave the shop. My legs were numb. My whole body senseless.

"Lather shaved..." I eked out to give me some time to recover.

"No extra charge for the lather," Chris said with a wink and a smile.

The policeman got up and strode over to the chair.

"I was thinking you might shoe him, Chris," he said. "Just another few swipes with the clippers and this amazing haircut will be even better!"

"How about a shoe, young man?" Chris asked solicitously.

I looked at the charismatic blue eyes of the cop. He stood there with his hands on his waist, chest puffed out and projecting authority.

"What the officer says," I murmured submissively.

He smiled broadly.

Suddenly, he reached into my lap and grabbed a massive handful of cut hair. There was no way he didn't come into direct contact with my large baseball bat in the process.

"Well, well, there's more under all this hair than meets the eye," the cop smirked.

Then, he made a big show of dropping my hair to the floor of the barbershop.

"Let's not have any more of this hippy hair, understood?" he said, staring directly at me.

"Understood, sir," I said meekly. Then, I added, " It should never have been that long...."

I closed my eyes and savored the feeling of the lather being massaged into my scalp and then the soothing strokes of the razor. My purgatory was abating. My long hair was gone...just try to accept the new reality, I told myself. Hell! Just try to like it!

Chris finished it off with a warm, moist towel and a splash of witch-hazel.

"Agh!" I shrieked on account of the sting.

The whole barbershop erupted into applause and laughter.

Chris gave me a little shoulder massage and told me I looked like the finest marine our country ever saw.

I smiled shyly, albeit unsure of how I felt about my new look.

For the moment, my only goal was to get out of the shop and to the car.

The cape came off and I instinctively touched the back of my head. Smooth as silk!

I smiled broadly. The crowd again broke into hearty applause, and I blushed.

I stood and saw the vast amount of cut hair on the floor.

"All that came off me?" I stammered, to the amusement of everyone.

I laughed along.

"I'm paying for this haircut," the cop said, pulling out some bills and handing them to the barber.

He put his arm around me, "You were a good sport!"

I eyed the cuffs on his belt. What I wouldn't give....

He held me close and examined the fine work of the horseshoe.

"I was afraid you would lock me up if I didn't behave," I said shyly.

His eyes twinkled, and he stared at me intently.

"I can still do that! You know, resisting an officer is a crime," he joked, reaching for his cuffs.

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