The Cutter Blade #6 - Jarvis' Command by Manny

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When the fancy Mercedes finally pulled up to the pier at 3:00 p.m., Commander Jarvis was fit to be tied.

"Who does he think he is? That pompous ass!" he fumed.

Michael McChesney's father emerged, chatting on his cell phone, and sauntered slowly toward the gangplank of the Blade. He cut a fine figure with his expensive Italian suit and shoes. His coiffed hair gleamed in the sunlight -- such a lush mane could only have been the product of an exclusive salon.

A bit of a breeze kicked up and sent the hair in various directions. Mr. McChesney worked quickly to smooth it back into place.

Commander Jarvis had Michael gather up his suitcases and marched the boy off the training cutter.

"Whoa! What's this all about?" Mr. McChesney said, glancing at the suitcases.

"Your son is no longer part of the program! He broke the guidelines about the use of cell phones. Plus, his attitude has been atrocious -- so flippant and lacking respect," Commander Jarvis said.

"Which is precisely why he's going into the navy. You are supposed to fix that poor attitude over the summer. There was something in that glossy brochure about the Semester at Sea being a 'transformative and maturing experience'. I see, you dealt effectively with his hair," Mr. McChesney noted. "I was talking with both of the Senators from Maryland this week and they were speaking very highly of the academy at Annapolis."

"He may be going there, but he's not staying aboard my vessel, and that's final!" Commander Jarvis announced curtly.

"Wait! Let's talk about this, in private somewhere. How about I take you for a spin? There's the car," Mr. McChesney said.

Commander Jarvis eyed the showy mane of hair. Yes, he had a destination in mind -- the Port Superior Barber Shop!

The two men got in the car.

"Just follow the road along the water," Commander Jarvis instructed.

"There is simply no way I can take Michael home with me. His stepmother, my new trophy bride, simply won't have it. She said that if I came home with the brat, she'd simply pack up her things and leave. I mean, with what I shelled out for the engagement ring, wedding and honeymoon, I'd be set back an awful lot. Just tell me what it will take," Mr. McChesney said.

"Oh, simply, about $13," Commander Jarvis said with a hint of levity in his voice. "That is, a $13 investment here in town and you taking home Michael's cell phone. No money at all for Michael. I'll make sure his basics are covered and hand you a bill at the end of the semester for whatever I've spent on him out-of-pocket."

"Why don't I just give you a few hundred bucks and you can use it on Michael, pay whatever this $13 is about, and keep the change," Mr. McChesney suggested.

"Okay, pull over there, on the right," Commander Jarvis said.

Mr. McChesney brought the Mercedes near the curb, put it into park, and took out his wallet.

"Here's $300," he said, handing the Commander three crisp bills.

"Fine, now come with me," Commander Jarvis as he got out of the car.

Mr. McChesney got out, as well, but was confused as to what was happening.

"Best barber on the coast, as far as I'm concerned. And you need a haircut," Commander Jarvis said.

"What?!" Mr. McChesney snapped. "My hair is fine!"

"You need to learn a lesson, mister. Trying to buy people off. You had a lifetime to deal with your son and you want me to reform him over the summer?" Commander Jarvis spouted.

"The brochure says...." Mr. McChesney started to aruge.

"The truth is, I know I can do it! But, I start with the fathers first. And you need to be taken down a few notches, to be taught a lesson or two starting with humility and contrition. This little mission to reform Michael is going to be paid for with that showy mane of yours....swept into Barber Will's trashcan! I hope you like flattops," Commander Jarvis said.

"Flattops!" Mr. McChesney gasped. "That is outrageous!"

"Is it?" Commander Jarvis laughed. "So, here are your two options: walk right into that shop and tell the barber to give you a flattop or drive back to the pier and hustle that little spoiled treasure of yours home to the loving arms of his stepmother!"

Mr. McChesney paced around a bit. He stared at the steely commander and then paced some more.

"You're serious about this, aren't you?" he finally said with his teeth clenched. "Well, Michael cannot go home!"

"And the longer it takes you to step in that door, the shorter I'm going to have the barber take down the top. I'd really like to see him carve out a generous landing strip. Think of an aircraft carrier atop that head of yours -- go Navy!" Commander Jarvis exclaimed.

Mr. McChesney grabbed the door handle and flung it open. He stepped inside. The mass of cut curls and shanks of dark brown hair still littered the floor around the chair.

"Afternoon, Commander," Will said. "I was wondering if I'd see you today. Two of your cadets dropped by this morning." He motioned at the floor.

"Yes, I can see that. Ah, those curls. That was Caleb, I presume. And, the other mass?" Commander Jarvis asked.

"Brant! Such a fine lad! So respectful and grateful for his haircut," Will said, hardly containing a smile.

"And this is Mr. McChesney, one of the other cadet's father. He's been inspired by all the military haircuts the boys are sporting. Such good manners they tend to acquire as soon as the shag is left behind in the barbershop. Instantly, they become more respectful and attentive," the commander said. "Isn't that right, Mr. McChesney?"

The business executive shuffled a bit on his feet, "Yes, I suppose so."

"Well, take off that suit jacket. No need to be so formal here. And really, with this heat, there's no need for a jacket or tie. Hang your things up on the hook and have a seat in the big chair by the window. You can see the Blade from here," Commander Jarvis instructed, motioning to the big barber chair.

Mr. McChesney hesitated before stripping off his fancy threads and shuffling towards the chair. His elegant coif swept straight back in rippling waves was on the chopping block. He gave Commander Jarvis one final appeal, pleading with his eyes to stop the madness.

The haughty business executive looked and felt so uncomfortable in the chair. He squirmed around in the vinyl maroon upholstery until the cape was fastened. Then his discomfort turned to the itchy tissue strip around his neck.

"Loosen it a bit," he told the barber.

"Oh, you're fine," Will snapped, irritated, as he began to yank a comb through Mr. McChesney's hair.

Mr. McChesney knew better than to complain about the way his hair was being combed.

"There's a lot of hair on this head," Will commented, "just like the cadets when they amble in here. And all the product you've gooped it up with makes it especially difficult to comb properly."

Mr. McChesney grimaced. He was paying a bit of penance as the barber prepared him to be shorn.

"So what will it be?" the barber asked.

Mr. McChesney swallowed hard and then said, "A flattop."

Will smiled broadly. It was his signature cut. And he loved administering first-time flats -- especially to mature pretty boys like Mr. McChesney.

"You have a strong hairline and a thick mane -- perfect hair for a perfect flattop," the barber noted. "Any special instructions? A shoe? A landing strip?"

"Just leave it as long as you can," Mr. McChesney instructed.

Will reached for the clippers. With a comb in the other hand, he snagged the copious forelock and lifted it up from the face.

In a flash, the clippers mowed it off! A six-inch mass of shiny hair fell straight to the cape.

Mr. McChesney jolted in the chair. The assault had happened so quickly. Now his pomp was history!

He watched on with resignation as his coif was methodically decimated. Clippers tight up the side....and the gentle waves that lapped the top of his ears disappeared. Without that big padding of hair on the sides, his ears were very pronounced.

Will kept clipping. Shorter and shorter and shorter.

Mr. McChesney's head was suddenly pushed forward and down to face his lap. Then the assault continued at his nape. Higher and higher up the back the clippers went.

"What length blade are you using, Will?" Commander Jarvis asked.

"A #3.5. He said he wanted some length," Will explained.

"Ah, shucks. Take him down tighter. I want him to really like his new look. Use a #1 on the sides and back. And clip it tight to the crown!" the commander said.

"Oh, for a more military look," Will said.

Mr. McChesney felt like a schoolboy in the barber's chair with his father calling the shots from the waiting area. Commander Jarvis' presence was impressive. He certainly exuded leadership and authority. Mr. McChesney found himself enjoying the submissive role assigned to him. And the way he'd been made to remove his tie and jacket. How else could he please Commander Jarvis? His mind wandered and he squirmed at the thought....

"Now for the top," Will announced. "Sit up straight!"

The barber began whacking off the length on the crown in a very crude and imprecise manner. Life and chop, lift and chop. Hair rained down everywhere.

"Just getting the length off so that I can beginning flattening out. It will be straight as a board when you walk out of here," Will explained.

There was a brief bit of action with a blow dryer that made Mr. McChesney miss his normal salon.

Then, Will went to town creating a very plush, very precise top. At its shortest, the magnificent outcropping measured a full inch! Mr. McChesney's hair was a dream to fashion into an exquisite long flattop. He smiled broadly as he watched it come into being. There was dramatic contrast between the virtually skinned sides and the deep-pile top. He looked trendy and young.

Then Mr. McChesney noticed the displeased look on Commander Jarvis' face.

"There, I left it as long as I could, just like you requested," the barber said as he whisked away the stray hairs from Mr. McChesney's face.

Will held up a mirror and asked, "How do you like it?"

Mr. McChesney watched Commander Jarvis carefully. He was still almost scowling.

The caped man's mouth felt dry. He swallowed hard. "It's very well done, but...."

Mr. McChesney steeled his nerves and gripped the armrests of the barber chair beneath the cape.

"...but, it's too long on top. I think it needs to be cut shorter."

He watched the scowl morph into a smile on Commander Jarvis' face. The man he suddenly felt an urge to please nodded silently with approval.

"That's fine. Shall I take it down half an inch?" Will asked.

Mr. McChesney hesitated briefly before giving the green light. "Yes, let's see if that's better."

The naked teeth of the clippers plunged right into the plush top, reducing it by half. Mr. McChesney was shocked at how much shorter the new length was. I mean, for him at the salon, asking the stylist to take off half an inch meant the slightest of trims. But, with the flattop, that was radically shorter!

The lush, lustrous top quickly was taken down to a more spartan, scant look. More military in appearance. Mr. McChesney missed the initial look of the deep pile, but was happy that Commander Jarvis seemed very pleased.

Suddenly, Mr. McChesney was seized with the desire to please the commander even more! The idea that popped into his mind shocked him!

Before he could really think through what he was asking for, Mr. McChesney found himself saying, "You know, I'd like a landing strip, actually."

Commander Jarvis broke into a wide grin, from ear to ear. "Fantastic!" he exclaimed from the waiting area.

Will's clippers grazed the top of Mr. McChesney's head. That contact sent an electric-like jolt through him! And the swath of virgin white scalp that instantly appeared on top was absolutely shocking!

Will kept reducing the length of the flattop until there was only the slightest bit of hair left. The length was brutally short. SHORN!

"There!" pronounced Will with a flourish. "If I take off anything else, you'll be bald! And to think you came in here with so much hair, looking like a high-flying corporate executive! Now you could pass for a drill sergeant!"

But Mr. McChesney's transformation was over; the cape came off.

Commander Jarvis came over to examine the new look.

"I absolutely love the way it came out," he said as he rested a hand on Mr. McChesney's shoulder.

Then he couldn't resist. His hand explored Mr. McChesney shaved pate.

"The feel of sandpaper!" he exclaimed as he rubbed the palm of his hand up the back, against the grain.

Mr. McChesney was all smiles as the accolades by both commander and barber were piled on.

Out came one of the hundred dollar bills. "Keep the change, Will! You do so much for the training cutter Blade and its associates," Commander Jarvis said.

"All this, for me?" the barber stammered. "I just gave him a flattop, sir."

"You gave him a lot more than that, more than you can know," the commander replied cryptically.

As the two men left the shop, there was a buzz or warmth and friendship between them.

"I almost dropped my teeth when you asked for a landing strip," Commander Jarvis chuckled.

"I did too!" replied Mr. McChesney. "Does it really suit me?"

Commander Jarvis put his arm around his new friend. "Perfectly! You know what, I'm sorry you won't be joining the crew for the three months at sea. I could use a little mature company onboard."

Mr. McChesney squirmed and shuffled his feet a bit restlessly. "That would be a thrill. I know I would learn a lot. But, my new wife...and the office..."

"Let me at least give you a tour of the vessel before you head off. I have a secret stash of grog in a private cellar. I'd like to take you down there. We can drink to your new look," Commander Jarvis said.

"And, to our new friendship," Mr. McChesney said as he imagined all the delights that might be found in the cellar.

Once in the car, he saw his extremely short flattop in the rearview mirror. He froze in momentary shock at the length.

"Yes, of course it was worth it," Commander said, reading his mind.

Then his hand caressed the sensitive virgin scalp in the strip on top.

"I hope this brings you as much pleasure as it bring me," he said quietly.

Commander Jarvis stroked the strip tenderly for a few moments.

"It does," Mr. McChesney replied as he fired up the Mercedes and headed back, wondering what the private cellar might be like.

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