Big John by Shant

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I attended college in a small town in upper New York state. The population of the town was just under 5000 people. There were two colleges in the town, with a combined enrollment of over 7000 students, more than doubling the population of the town during the school year.

You would think that the people of the town would be thankful that two colleges were located there because the economy of the town almost totally depended on the large number of students.

There never would have been so many commercial businesses if the students did not exist. The town would not have survived if it were not for the college students.

All the small surrounding towns, without colleges, were nowhere near as prosperous. In the summer when school was not in session, the town seemed almost like a ghost town because over half its population was gone.

Instead, over the years an attitude of resentment had developed with several local residents, believing the "spoiled college" kids ran all over the town and had no respect for them. It didn’t matter to them at all that if it weren’t for the students their lives would not be as good.

A new mayor had been elected the previous fall and the man who won basically ran an "Us against Them" platform. He professed that he wanted to crack down on crime, especially when it came to the college students.

I was in a fraternity all through college. There were four of us in the frat named John, so I became known as "Big John" because I was so much larger than the other three guys.

I was 6’ 2", and weighed 200 pounds. I had wrestled all through high school and received a scholarship to wrestle in college. I was in great physical shape. I had really sharp definition and was proud of how good my body looked.

The thing that I secretly was most proud of, however, was my hair. All my life, people had told me what a beautiful head of hair I had. I would just say thanks, and that I knew how lucky I was to have it. No one had any idea how vain I really was about my glorious mane.

When I was a senior in high school, we still had senior superlatives. They were really just more of a joke then, and weren’t taken as seriously as they once were, but I won "Best Hair" by a mile. My hair looked entirely different now. The top was more than twice as long as it was while I was in high school.

My hair was a dark chestnut color and had a slight wave to it when I let it get longer. It was so thick and had such great body that I could brush the sides all up and back into the top and then brush the entire top straight back and it stayed in place all throughout the day.

Once I brushed my hair, it never moved. I could shake my head as hard as I could, and every hair would still stay in place. I found this pomade that made my hair really shine and helped me keep it perfectly in place whichever way I combed it. No one had any idea how long my hair was on top because of the way I combed it, all slicked back and close to the head.

When I measured it, it was over eight inches long on top. I could actually put my forelock in my mouth. The sides were over three inches long and I brushed them all back.

I had also worn a full beard for over two years and I loved it almost as much as I loved my hair. I always kept it well groomed and it was between two to three inches long.

When I was by myself, I had a lot of fun playing with my hair and combing it all different ways.

"Compared to anyone in the entire fraternity, no one has a better head of hair than I do," I said to myself. "I know how envious a lot of the guys are because my hair is so awesome."

"My hair is really beautiful. I love how fantastic it looks. I catch guys looking at it all the time. Anyone would be thrilled to have the great mane that I have. I get stoked just looking at my gorgeous hair once I’ve combed it all perfectly into place."

I was finishing my junior year and was anxious to graduate and get a job and start my life. The final week of school, the frat threw a big party, inviting all the other Greek organizations.

I paid extra attention to my hair before the party, making certain that it looked the best it could. I knew that people always noticed me when I entered a place because they were always looking up towards my hair. I loved how much my hair really did stand out.

The party was in full swing when all of a sudden, the town police entered the house and announced that this was a raid. Everyone that did not live in the house was told to immediately leave.

Once everyone had left, the police thoroughly searched each room. Most of the guys smoked pot and it was found in several rooms.

Having an athletic scholarship prevented me from smoking because we were randomly drug tested. I had never smoked pot in my life because I could not have afforded college without my scholarship.

The police found two joints in my roommate's desk and we were both arrested. I couldn’t believe this was happening! Even after telling the police that I had never smoked, I was charged just like everyone else.

We were told not to worry and that this would just be a slap on the wrist. Probably the worst outcome, if we were first time offenders, would be ending up doing some type of community service.

Two days later, on Monday, we had our court appearance. We were all dreading it, but hoping that this would soon be all behind us.

Much to our surprise, the county judge was in cahouts with the new mayor, and decided to make an example of us, and we were sentenced to the maximum penalty - six months in the county jail!

The next thing we knew we were in a police van and headed to the jail. When we arrived we were lined up outside the van and told that from then on, there would be absolutely no talking until we were processed and in our cells. We were warned if we disobeyed that the punishment would be severe.

We marched into the jail and were told to take off our clothes and that we were going to be searched. Talk about feeling embarrassed! Having to watch you and your friends spread our legs wide so some police officer could check up our butthole to see that none of us had any hidden contraband was really humilating.

After we had all been searched, we were given our bright orange prison uniforms and were then sent to another waiting area. We were told to sit in a chair with our backs to the wall and not say a single word. They showed us the cameras that they would be watching while we waited our turn to be processed.

When my name was called, I stood up and went into the next room. I was told to sit down in a chair that was in the center of the room.

The sheriff seemed like a nice enough guy. He wasn’t at all intimidating. Actually, he reminded me a little of my grandfather. He started out by telling me that they all thought what was happening to us was a political stunt by the new mayor.

He told me that if I were to keep my nose clean, no talking back to the officers, no fighting with other inmates, no doing anything that caused a disruption, that after the publicity died down, I would be allowed to leave after serving only two months, and that I would not have a criminal record.

"It’s all up to you. You can do this the easy way or the hard way. You seem like a pretty smart guy and I think you’ll make the right decision. I mean, why ruin your life over two months?" he said.

I agreed. I knew I had to do whatever they said in order not to screw up my entire life. I would be out of here before the start of my senior year, and not have a record, and therefore, would keep my athletic scholarship and life would just go on.

I wasn’t thrilled by any of this, but I knew the most important thing to do was keep my emotions under control and not do anything that would prevent me from getting out of here in two months.

The sheriff and deputies seemed like okay guys when we were out in the other rooms. Once they had us alone in the final room, you could see a change in their attitudes. It was obvious they liked humiliating a guy, knowing they could do whatever they wanted, and get away with it.

"That’s quite a beard you have there," the sheriff said. "Unfortunately, prisoners are not allowed to have facial hair, so it has to go."

The sheriff approached me and I saw that he had a pair of clippers in his hands. "You just sit there and this will be over in no time," the sheriff smiled.

He turned the clippers on and placed his hand on the top of my head in order to keep me perfectly still. He then buzzed off my beard and then took shaving cream and a razor and proceeded to shave my face so that it was perfectly clean.

I loved my beard. I dreaded them cutting it off but I knew that it wasn’t worth making a scene over. I knew that I could grow it back in almost no time, so I just sat there and tried not to think about what the sheriff was doing.

"There now. That looks a lot better," the sheriff said. "Inmates are not allowed to have scissors in their possession, so this is the best way to deal with a beard if a guy has one when he first gets sent here."

Once the sheriff had removed my beard, I thought that the worst was over. Boy, was I ever wrong!

The sheriff was standing beside me after he finished the shave. He then lifted up a lock of my hair and said, "Boy, you really have an immense head of hair here. I bet that you really love these pretty locks you have, don’t you?" he said as he ran his hands all through my hair, enjoying messing it up.

"I can’t believe how long your hair is! No one would think it was so long with the way you have it all slicked back."

"Guys, you can’t believe how long this kid’s hair is!" He told one of the deputies to go and get a tape measure because he wanted to see how long my hair actually was. The deputy came back and the sheriff lifted up a lock of my hair and measured it. My hair was a little over eight inches long.

"What do you use to keep it looking so shiney and stay all in place like that? You can forget about that pretty boy look you have while you’re here. All prisoners get is a brush and a comb."

"You won’t be getting any type of hair products to keep your hair looking so pretty. We’ll be keeping you so busy that you aren’t going to be having a lot of time to pamper those precious locks you have anyway."

The sheriff then aggressively began running his hands all through my hair. He placed his hands on each side of my head and ran them straight up the sides and into the top, pulling it straight up and in all different directions, making it stand up as tall as he could.

With the pomade I used, he was able to pull my hair all straight up and it stood up almost as long as my hair was. The sheriff was having a lot of fun totally destroying how my hair looked.

The sheriff was standing behind me, still manhandling my hair, and said, "Yeah, you really do have a pretty head of hair there." As he said this, he lifted up a lock from the front, pulled it straight up, and chopped off seven inches and tossed it into my lap! My hair on top was barely an inch long!

Not wanting to protest was really hard, but I was determined I was not going to do anything that would result in my being here for six months.

I was so much bigger than all three of these guys and I knew that I could take them, but I knew that I just had to sit there and take it as the sheriff butchered my hair. I just closed my eyes and tried not to think about what was happening.

"Hey, you guys," the sheriff said. "Would either of you like to trim some of this guy’s hair for him? I think it’s probably the longest hair anyone has had when they’ve entered here in a really long time."

"Oh, yeah," both the deputies said. "We’ve never had our hands in so much hair. It will be a blast to cut off some of those beautiful locks he must love so much." Each of the deputies then began just grabbing huge sections of my hair and chopping it off, just like the sheriff did.

"Man, look at all that pretty hair that is coming off! Can you believe how long those pretty locks of his are? It’s awesome watching them fall onto his shoulders and then into his lap. Look how huge the pile of hair is in his lap! I’ve never seen anyone lose so much hair at one time before!" one of the deputies said.

They took great pleasure making certain that all my hair was falling into my lap. As they cut my hair, they enjoyed making fun of me, knowing that I was at their mercy. "You’re such a pretty boy, but you aren’t going to be for long. You spoiled college kids think you are so much better than the people that live here."

"You need to be taught a lesson. This is something that you deserve to have happen to you. We’re going to take you down a peg or two. You’ll never forget the time you had to just sit in a chair and have all your pretty hair cut off!"

Once they finished chopping off almost all my hair, the sheriff took over again. I saw that he had the clippers back in his hands and I knew what was coming. He placed the clippers at the middle of my forehead and turned them on.

I could hear them come to life as he proceeded to run them all over my entire head. I could see that he had a guard on the clippers and I hoped that I wouldn’t end up with all my hair totally buzzed off.

He ended buzzing my head and leaving me with about half an inch of hair. It was just long enough to lay down. I was in shock. I had never had anything like this ever happen to me in my entire life.

I could have easily started crying because I loved my hair so much and I knew how much I was going to miss it, but there was no way in hell that I was going to allow them to see how upset I was.

"Okay," the sheriff said. "I think you’re now ready to go to your cell. Remember, just stay out of trouble and you’ll be out of here in two months and you’ll be able to leave without getting another haircut."

"If you do cause trouble, we’ll be running the clippers over your head again, and this time there won’t be a guard on them at all. You may think your hair is so short now, but we can actually make it look a whole lot shorter."

I was put in a cell and my roommate was one of my frat brothers. I knew that would definitely help make the time go by faster.

One day, one guy got in the face of one of the deputies and the result was the sheriff ran the clippers with no guard on them all over his head. He also ended up having to stay four more months. That was definitely an incentive to just keep my nose clean.

Two months passed and I never got in any trouble. I was released one month before school started, so I still had some free time to enjoy myself.

One thing I had decided was that I was not going to move back into the frat house because I was never again going to end up being punished for something that I was not guilty of doing.

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