Back to the barbershop - part 1. by vykonavatel

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My name is Michael. As a little boy, I regularly went to the Anderson barbershop with my father every first Saturday of the month, where I always got a short haircut. When I started going to school, some of my classmates had long hair, which was fashionable at the time. Every time I came to school with a haircut, the children laughed at me. When my father told me that we were going to the Anderson barber shop, I started crying, that the kids at school would make fun of me. I wasn't even 8 years old when my mother started taking me to a unisex barbershop where I got a little haircut. In time, my hair was long and covered my ears and past my shirt collar.
After about 5 years I found myself attracted to seeing boys with short hair. I started looking for old-fashioned barbershops and watched what kind of haircuts the cut boys left them with. At that time, there were 4 old-fashioned barbershops in our town. At Lee's barbershop, the children got the shortest haircuts, at Anderson's barbershop, where I used to go, their haircuts were a little longer. They got the least drastic haircuts at the Jakson barbershop. After more than six months of watching barbershops, I also wanted to try a short haircut. To remember what it's like when a barber cuts hair with electric scissors. In the end, I decided to go to the Jakson barber shop.
I prepared a short letter for the barber, where I wrote: Mr. Jakson, my son Michael has been a very bad student and a bad boy lately and he does not deserve to have long hair. That's why I sent him to your barber shop.
I watched Jakson barber shop. 2 boys entered the barbershop with their father, then an elderly man entered. I gathered courage and entered the Jakson barber shop.
I sat down on the waiting chair. I was looking at the barber shop. There was one red leather chair for cutting. In front of him was a large mirror, on the counter the barber had various scissors, combs, creams. There were 10 waiting chairs opposite along the wall. On the walls were old browned pictures of boys and men with short haircuts. After about half an hour, the first of the boys sat down in the barber's leather chair. They were probably twins around 10 years old. I watched the barber's every move on the boy's head. I felt excited watching. When the boy left the barber's chair, he had a haircut like almost all the boys in this barbershop got. His brother also got the same haircut.
The barber was already cutting the hair of an elderly man, and I knew it would be my turn. Meanwhile, the barbershop filled with new customers and the waiting chairs filled up.
When Mr. Jakson called another one, I got up to sit in his chair. I handed the barber the prepared letter. He read it and asked me: Michael, are you a bad boy? I replied: Yes, sir.
Mr. Jakson already wrapped me in a white sheet, raised the chair by a few centimeters with the foot lever. He combed my hair. I expected the barber to push my head forward as he had done to the boys before. But Mr. Jakson was pushing her back and before he applied the electric scissors to her forehead I noticed #2 on them. The scissors turned on and I felt cold metal on my head. It was like a gentle head massage. I was excited. The barber tilted my head slightly to the side and cut my hair from the side. After a few minutes I could lift my head. When I saw the 6 millimeter hair on the top of my head, my stomach and throat tightened. I couldn't get a single word out. When the barber turned off the scissors on my whole head, I had 6 millimeters of hair. The barber changed his scissors, they were much finer. He tilted my head to the side, placed the scissors above my cheekbone and went with them to the top of my head, continued on the back of my head and then on the other side. About a millimeter stubble remained after them. The barber unzipped my white sheet, I thought he had already finished his work and I wanted to jump off his chair. But he pushed me back. He dusted the sheet from my hair and refastened it around my neck. Almost all my black hair was on the ground. Mr. Jakson wet the sides and back of his head and applied the white cream, which he gradually began to scrape from the scalp towards the neck with a razor. From the waiting chairs, I heard a little boy crying, who shouted that he didn't want to have a bald head like the boy at the barber shop. The barber, interrupting my shave, turned to the boy and said: This boy is very bad and therefore today he will be punished with a very short haircut. Are you a bad boy or a good boy? The boy quickly shouted that he was good.
After the barber shaved the back of my head and sides, he wiped the remaining foam from my head. He applied the liquid to the top of my head and combed the hair on top of my head.
The barber took a small mirror and stood behind me with it. So I saw a perfectly shaved back of the head and sides. It was a great contrast of white skin and black hair. I have never had such short hair and a shaved head.
When I left Jakson's barbershop, I was rubbing the smooth part of my head, I was excited while doing it but I knew that I would be the laughing stock of everyone at school with this hairstyle.
My parents were surprised with my haircut, I told them that I lost a bet at school and that's why I had to get a haircut like that. My father was happy that I no longer had long hair.
Later, a very good friend from school, Mário, came to see me. When he saw me cut, he started asking what happened to my hair. I told him we were going to a party and dad wanted me to sit down to get my hair cut. I refused, so my father took me to an old-fashioned barbershop and had me cut like that as a punishment. Mário felt sorry for me and said that he knows it. Even his father still wants him to go to the old-fashioned barber shop with him. But I didn't know that my father overheard our conversation.
A few days later, the father came home from work and said that his colleague was at the Jakson barber shop, where a boy was getting a very short haircut. At first dad thought it would be me, but a colleague said it was some bad boy and a bad student. Well, my results in school are excellent, so it will probably be a different boy. I was glad my father didn't reveal me.

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