Conrad Finally Succumbs by Manny

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"If your mind is wandering, now is the time to 'take every thought captive' and focus it back on the Word of God!" the pastor thundered.

Conrad flinched in the pew. His mind had been wandering far from the sanctuary! He was imagining himself seated in a barber's chair, not a church pew....

Conrad had a secret fantasy, one that he nurtured and fed constantly. Under the billowy barber's cape, his excitement could grow unnoticed as he imagined all those powerful machines dangling from the counter before him fulfilling his hidden desires.

In his own mind, he had come to terms with his private world after failing repeatedly to 'take every thought captive.' Why torment himself about his secret thoughts and excitements? After all, where was it written, "Thou shalt not nurture a flattop fetish?" Outwardly, he was still the same Conrad, a pillar in his faith community -- inwardly, instead of feeling guilty about his haircut fetish, he enjoyed it.

"Amen, amen," Conrad murmured, as was the custom in his church to express agreement with the sermon's message.

But, within instants, he was dreaming again about Tuesday's trip to the barber shop.

After the cape was on nice and tight and the barber had brushed his thick, dishwater-blond hair to the side would come the perfunctory question, "So, what will it be today?"

The normal response would be, "Just tidy it up a bit." Conrad kept his businesscut on the longish side -- meaning a regular barbershop visit every two weeks. His forelock brimmed with healthy sheen and vitality. His longest locks on top measured five inches. And his hair on the sides and back was quite full, brushing a bit over the top of the ear and the collar by the end of the two-week cycle of growth.

Conrad's flattop fetish developed at the time he was going through puberty. The handsome young track coach who had been hired straight out of military service sported one. He was a proud marine and kept his deck flat, even though it wasn't in fashion. One day, coach had playfully blocked Conrad's exit from the locker room. He'd grasped Conrad's "mop" and threatened to have his barber take him flat. As Conrad escaped and ran past, Coach had given him a little love swat on the rear. From that moment, Conrad simultaneously feared and yearned to go flat. He wanted to see his blond hair, especially his copious forelock, in his lap on the barber cape! He fantasized about the handsome coach watching on as the forelock fell.

Fifteen years on, the flattop had never materialized, except in his fantasy world.

The most Conrad could muster to shake things up at the barber shop was a shorter spring crop. As the temps warmed in May, he would tell the barber, "Time for my shorter summer cut."

He would be trembling with excitement as he defined what that meant, "A tight taper around the ears and up the back and about two inches off the top." Within minutes the clumps would be falling. He loved watching the piles of cut hair grow in his lap.

As Conrad sat through the closing prayer, he squirmed at the idea that his spring crop could come earlier this year. It was only April, but already he was toying with cracking up the AC in his small Georgia town.

All Tuesday at work, Conrad's excitement intensified. By lunch, the decision had been made. It was 85 degrees outside, and the humidity made it feel much more like summer than spring. How many times had he run his fingers through his plush locks? Countless! How many times had he popped into the bathroom to tug at his forelock imagine it being whacked off extra short? At least a half dozen!

He even wrote down the following instruction at his desk, "Aggressive taper up the back and the sides, and on top, just long enough to lay down. I mean, take at least three inches off the top. I want it cut extra short this year."

Conrad was hard as a rock and he wrote it down and each time he practiced it throughout the day. Just the word "aggressive" made him hard.

He asked his boss if he could leave work a few minutes early to advance his date with the clippers.

Driving to the barber shop, Conrad thought he might even have the guts to do it on this visit! Yes, he should really do it!! Finally do it!!! Finally, go flat.....

Conrad's legs felt wobbly as pulled into the parking space directly in front of the shop. White's Barber Shop was a stand-alone building that resembled a small A-frame house with pitched roof and faux stone facade beneath the plate glass window. A large red-white-and-blue awning was embellished with the name of the establishment on the lower part that hung horizontal with the sidewalk.

Three barber poles could be seen on the building -- one was three dimensional and the other two flat representations. On the left, at the corner of the building, was the lit, whirling pole. On one side of the window was a large decal with a similar-looking pole. And then, next to the door was another picture of a pole on a vintage promotional for Wildroot styling cream.

Conrad climbed the two steps and entered the shop. The barber was free and smiled as he vacated the big chair so that Conrad could take a seat.

"Hot enough for you out there?" Conrad asked, happy to ditch his business jacket. "Glad you have the A/C on, Chad."

He looked at himself in the mirror and smoothed down his hair.

Before even taking a seat, Conrad made a bold move. "Most of this will be staying behind, Chad."

"Your summer crop day!" Chad chirped.

Then, from the safety he felt, being uncaped and standing, Conrad added with suppressed excitement, "This might be the day I finally have you give me a flattop."

There, he said it! The words had come out! He had actually told his barber he was considering a flattop.

"Then, let's get to it," Chad replied. "A flattop will suit you, I'm sure of it."

OMG - the barber seemed eager! Suddenly, Conrad felt nervous and played for a bit of time to steel his nerves. He continued to examine himself in the mirror and smooth his hair with his hands. It felt so soft and silken.

"You think I ought to have all this up here chopped off?" he asked the barber, still fondling the longest locks. "Nothing left but a feel of velvet?"

"It's supposed to be an extra hot, humid summer this year," the barber urged. "You'll be glad to be rid of all that hair."

Conrad squirmed at the thought of a flattop. He wandered over to the chart of "official haircuts" to prolong his delaying tactic.

"I see on this chart there are two versions, the simple flattop and the one with fenders," Conrad noted.

"Forget the fenders," Chad said decisively. "The real question will be whether you want a shorter military-like version or a longer version."

"Or, whether I want a flattop at all," Conrad added, starting to back-pedal in earnest. "I mean, what would everyone at the office say if I showed up tomorrow looking like I was in the military?"

"Oh, a bit of kidding, I suppose. Some envy, too," Chad added. "Come on, take a seat!"

Conrad steeled his nerve and climbed up the sturdy metal footrest before easing into the comfy chair, facing the mirror. He gazed at his his hair. He yearned to see it almost all come off.

The barber cast a large pinstriped cape and pulled it snug around the neck before fastening it with a large metal clip.

"I've always thought you have the right type hair for a flattop," Chad said, subtly encouraging his client to go for one as he brushed the thick, blondish-brown locks.

"Well, I'm not sure," Conrad stammered, suffering from cold feet. "Let's just go for a shorter haircut, how about that?"

"What did you have in mind? Your usual spring crop?" Chad asked.

"No, shorter than that. A lot shorter, actually. I was thinking about an aggressive taper up the back and the sides, and on top, just long enough to lay down. I mean, take at least three inches off the top," Conrad said firmly with a smile. No flattop, but his shortest haircut ever.

"And, if you change your mind about the flattop, a few extra swipes will be all it takes to get a breezy, summer look," Chad added with a broad smile.

Chad combed the forelock down. Oh, how it hung gloriously! So thick, so proud....so vulnerable, so tantalizing.

The barber reached for his clippers.

The pompous veil of hair hung past Conrad's eyes. It seemed to be asking for a radical shearing -- to be lopped off near the roots.

Conrad squirmed in the chair. 'Do it now!' he told himself sternly as the barber continued combing all his hair straight down. Flattop time!

Chad snapped on the clippers and they sprang to life, emitting a low but persistent hum.

Conrad braced for the clippers to hit his nape. He gripped the arms tightly. He took one last glance at the dangling forelock before the barber pushed his head down.

That forelock needed to FALL! He squirmed in his seat. He cleared his throat. His mouth felt dry.

"Wait!" Conrad called out nervously. "You know what? I'm going to go for the flattop!"

"Perfect!" Chad said without hesitation. His comb snagged the forelock and lifted it up off the face.

Conrad's heart stopped beating momentarily, as the end of the forelock seemed to play in slow motion.

With a quick drive of the clippers, it came off! The forelock plunged to the cape. The whole thing, almost, all at once. There it lay in Conrad's lap -- the whole bulk of it, almost five inches, glistening in his lap!

"Oh, my!" Conrad gasped. "It's actually going to happen! No more bangs. I'm going flat!"

The barber beamed. He had preempted any more waffling. Conrad already looked quite different with just a wispy little fringe instead of his normal, bulky forelock.

He reached out from under the cape and seized the severed forelock. It was a relic of the past! Holding it in his hand emphasized the point of no return.

"Yep, like you said when you came in a few minutes ago....most of this hair is staying behind when you leave," Chad replied.

Then the first swipe of the clippers went tight up the side, up through the temple and crown. Wow! A padded mass of hair felt away.

"That's tight!" Conrad gulped.

"Of course, it's tight! You are getting a flattop!" the barber exclaimed. "Yep, you sure are. Finally! But I'll leave it plush on top. How's that?"

"This is so exciting," Conrad babbled. "I've dreamed for years about going flat. And, now...."

"Your dream is coming true," Chad chuckled.

Conrad watched in amazement as the barber continued peeling off his hair, stripping his side to the bone. He fidgeted in the chair. There was no going back.

Chad turned to the back of Conrad's head. Up, the clippers went. Tight, tight, tight!

Conrad felt a blast of air conditioning where the hair had been clipped off.

"Is it very short in back?" Conrad asked, nervously

"Yep, just stubble left back here, all the way to the crown. Why, it's as short as a soldier's haircut," Chad replied.

The barber could tell how nervous poor Conrad was about getting such a short haircut and enjoyed inflicting even more dread than necessary.

"Are you going to let me give you a landing strip on top?" he asked as he stripped the padding of hair off the remaining side.

"No, I want a deep pile with beveled sides," Conrad said emphatically.

"Oh, come on, just a faint landing strip," the barber urged. "You won't regret it."

"I think I already am full of regret," Conrad gulped nervously.

"Look at all that hair," the barber replied gleefully, pointing to the lap. A large caldron-full had collected.

"Aren't you glad I zipped that forelock off quickly so you couldn't weasel out of your dream haircut?" the barber taunted.

Conrad squirmed in the chair. "I think I am..."

"Have you changed your mind about the landing strip?" the barber asked, as he turned his attention to the top.

"I'm warming to it," Conrad said, nervously, half-serious and half-joking.

He'd come so far, why not go all the way?! Throw caution to the wind! Not only go flat, but get shorn down tight!!

"Shall I?" the barber asked, priming his clippers for the first swipe down the top.

"Go for it!" Conrad blurted out.

The clippers lunged forward and hit the top of his scalp hard. This would not be a "faint" landing strip.

"OMG!" Conrad yelped, watching a broad swath of white scalp appear in the wake of the clippers.

"This is your lucky day!" Chad chattered. "A very short military-length flattop! I do hope you will let me lather shave the sides and top."

"And leave me with almost nothing?" Conrad asked nervously.

"That's right. Peeled like a grape, for the most part!" Chad affirmed enthusiastically. "I love the look of shiny, freshly exposed scalp!"

Now, Conrad was full of dread and watched the final moments of his makeover feeling more lifeless than a wet rag.

Chad chirped cheerfully and flitted around buzzing off imaginary strands that stuck out. Then he lathered up much of the head and started scraping off the foam with a straight-edge razor.

Finally, the whole head was wrapped it a warm, damp towel and the foam remnants removed.

All that was left was for the barber to fashion the remaining short spikes in an erect manner. Conrad was unrecognizable!

"Look at you! So different! So manly!" Chad exclaimed.

Conrad cracked a nervous smile. "I never thought the day would come....and I never imagined my first flattop would be so short!"

He looked into his lap and saw the mass of cut hair -- purposeless, lifeless. His stomach churned. No more standard business look....

Chad slapped a bit of witch hazel on the freshly shaved scalp, provoking a yelp out of Conrad.

"Love to do that!" the barber laughed as he reached for the large metal clip and began removing the cape.

Conrad's legs felt like jelly as he emerged from the chair. He looked like a different man. He felt like a different man too!

"Is your new look a keeper?" the barber asked eagerly.

"I don't know?" Conrad murmured. "I don't know...."

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