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Silence is more than gold. – part 2 by Vykonavatel77

Before you start reading this story, please read the introduction: Silence is more than gold.
In 1973 when I was 12 years old I wore my hair long. I used to go to a modern unisex barbershop to get my hair done. My best friend Bobby, whose father was a military officer, used to go to Sergeant Simson's barbershop. His father had been on a mission for over half a year, and Bobby's hair had grown during that time, and his hairstyle was now fashionable.
He came to school sad, he confessed to me that his father is coming on vacation for a few weeks and will definitely take him to get a haircut. I consoled him that maybe he wouldn't take him to Sergeant Simson's barber shop. After a long period of consoling, I told him that it would be interesting if I could get a haircut with him, but I didn't mean it completely seriously.
When I got to Bobby's, his father opened the door and told me that Bobby needed a haircut. After a short conversation, Bobby's father called my father and told him that I wanted to get a haircut with Bobby. So my best friend and I got a haircut at Sergeant Simson's barbershop.
3 weeks have passed since the haircut and our hair has grown by approximately 1 centimeter. It was Saturday morning. The phone rang, I heard my father on the phone with someone and he answered. Well, I'll be happy if you take him and I'll send Michael to you.
My father came to me and told me that Bobby's father called, that they were going to get a haircut and I should go to him right now to go with them. Bobby's dad is going to have to go on a mission again, so he wants us both to get haircuts. I started protesting that my hair hadn't grown properly yet and I had to cut it again. But the father said that he promised that I would come and that I would not stay and run to Bobby. He gave me some money for the barber. I was horrified that after 3 weeks I had to sit in Sergeant Simson's chair again
When we entered the barbershop, no one was sitting on the waiting chairs, and in Sergeant Simson's chair was only a soldier with a recent haircut. While we were waiting on the waiting chairs, a group of 5 soldiers came to the barber shop. Then the barber invited me to sit in his vacant chair. He tied a green sheet tightly around my neck and Bobby asked my father what hairstyle he should give me. Father said that he would go on a mission again and the boys wouldn't come to the new cut by themselves, so he would make us a landing pad, which made the soldiers laugh uproariously.
The barber took, that noisy electric cutting stand, the sound reminded me of a noisy mixer. He tilted my head and placed it on my forehead. He started cutting the hair on top of my head. When he finished cutting the top of my head and I had the opportunity to look in the mirror for a moment, I saw that I only had 6 millimeters of hair left on the top of my head. Sergeant Simson changed the scissors, tilted my head and started to cut one side of my head, sharply tilted my head forward and cut the hair on the back of my head and finally cut it on the other side of my head. The barber straightened my head, placed the clipper in about the middle of my head and went with it to the back of my head. While the barber cleaned my sheet of small hair with a brush, I had the opportunity to see myself in the mirror. I had very little stubble on my sides.
The barber applied the foam to the sides, the back of the head and in the middle of the crown to the nape of the neck. He slowly scraped off the foam with a sharp razor. When he wiped off the rest of the lather, my sides were clean shaven. I slightly bent my head forward on the top of my head, I had only 6 millimeter short hair in a shape resembling the letter "U". It was a humiliating haircut, and the soldiers waiting to be cut were visibly amused by it.
It was obvious to Bobby that he didn't like the haircut that Sergeant Simson had given me, and he was aware that he would be leaving his chair in no time with the same short haircut. I sat down in the waiting chair and rubbed the clean shaven back and sides of my head.
When I got home, my dad complimented me on my super good army haircut and rubbed the top of my head. That's beautiful, he said with a satisfied smile.
Classmates and friends from the immediate area had a different opinion about mine and Bobby's military hairstyle. Until the stubby parts of our heads grew back, we exposed ourselves to various taunts every day.
Bobby was glad that his dad was off on a mission again for a few months. I was convinced that it was my last haircut from Sergeant Simson and that my hair would gradually grow back to its original length.

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