Unexpected Haircut by buzztob

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Unexpected Haircut
by
buzztob

For the past few years, it had been an uphill battle with my father to allow me to grow out my hair. From as early as I could remember, every couple of weeks my father and I would pay a visit to the barbers. He would receive a regular haircut with a side parting and, every so often, he would request a really brutally short version. Me on the other hand, would receive the obligatory short back and sides. I hated the haircut and as I grew up, would receive regular snide comments from my classmates. Most of them had fairly long hair styled in the latest trend, a few had regular haircuts, but I was the only one with short back and sides. I had tried working on mom, hoping that she could persuade my father to let me grow my hair out but, she would always say, that it was my father’s department, and there was nothing she could do.

Once I reached thirteen, my father would allow me to go to the barbers on my own but there was always the caveat of, make sure the barber cuts it short. As time progressed, I managed to start to increase the time between haircuts. My hair was not what you would call long, but for me, it was the longest it had ever been. I was starting to feel like my father was relenting, but that changed one Wednesday evening over dinner.

My father looked across the dining room table straight into my eyes and informed me that he had noticed that I was starting to get sloppy in my appearance. I was to get a haircut before Saturday or he would take me to his barber and get my hair sorted out. That night lying in bed, I was trying to think which barber I could go to and not get scalped.

The next day at school, I was talking to my friend Tom, and told him of the ultimatum my father had given me. He said that he had also been told by his father that he was getting his haircut on Saturday as well. I asked him which barber he went to and his reply surprised me a little. He informed me that whilst his father was out having a drink at the local pub, a friend of his had informed him of a man, who had recently been medically discharged from the army, had bought a house just around the corner from where Tom lived, and had set up a barber’s shop in a summer house in his garden. He didn’t charge anyone for their haircut, but there was a box where you could leave a tip, or, he mostly accepted drinks in lieu in the pub. That way, he was not classified as a business so didn’t have to pay business rates and other charges, and wasn’t required to have insurance in order to operate. Tom said that his father and younger brother had gone there last Saturday, and their haircuts weren’t too bad. So, his father had told Tom to get himself there this Saturday for his haircut. Tom said that if I wanted to, he would go there with me on Friday after school and we could both get our hair cut. Initially I wasn’t too sure but then thought about going with father on Saturday and thought Tom’s idea the lesser of two evils.

Thursday night, my father reminded me about my haircut and I informed him that I was going to get it cut on Friday after school. He gave me some money and said to make sure in his words, that it was value for money.

Friday after school, Tom and I made our way to the house where the ex-army man lived. It was a nice big house with a pathway leading down the side of the house and into the back garden. We made our way down the path, approached the back door and whilst Tom knocked on the door, I looked into the garden and saw the large summer house that Tom had mentioned. The door opened and a young, well-built muscular man, stood in front of us. Tom said that his father had sent him for a haircut and would it be ok if I got one too. The man was grasping onto the door, swaying around, and when he opened his mouth to say, sure, let’s go, you could tell he had been drinking. As he staggered down the path, Tom and I followed him and entered the wooden building. It was light and airy with a huge barber’s chair off to one side. In front of that was a large mirror, a wooden shelf with an array of clippers, attachments, scissors, a hair dryer, a jar of blue liquid filled with combs, a number of tubs and bottles; which I imagined contained hair products, a stack of towels and barber’s capes. On the opposite wall, were a number of plastic chairs. The guy was so unsteady on his feet I thought he was going to fall over a couple of times. He picked up a cape, shook it out, turned to us and said in a slurry voice, that we were lucky to have found him in as he had just returned from a session at the pub. Whose first?

Tom and I looked at each other and I said you go first as it was your idea. Tom slowly made his way to the chair. Once seated, the cape was tucked in. The man introduced himself as Frank and asked Tom how he wanted his hair cut. Tom said that he didn’t want too much off, just a light taper with a small amount off the top and thinned out. Frank said no problem, let’s get started. He started to make his way to the counter and tripped over his own feet. He managed to save himself by grabbing the counter. He selected a comb from the blue fluid, wiped it on a towel, picked up the clippers and approached Tom. He started to lift the hair with the comb above Toms ear and ran the clippers over the top. He repeated the action a few more times. Once satisfied with the side, he moved around to the back. He combed up a large amount of hair near the crown of Toms head, and whipped it off. He repeated the process a few more times and Toms hair was getting shorter and shorter. It was then Frank started to sway a bit and as he picked up another section of hair, he seemed to miss the comb altogether and the clippers landed on the upper part of Toms head. As Frank removed the clippers, I could see a large bald patch on Toms head. Frank said that he wasn’t feeling well and needed to sit down. No sooner had his backside hit the chair, he passed out.

I walked over to the barber’s chair and said, now what! I told Tom that he had a huge bald patch on the top of his head. I picked up the hand mirror and showed Tom the extent of the damage. You could see the panic in Toms eyes. What am I going to do? I can’t walk around looking like this. It’s too late to find another barber. I said that it looked like I would be going with my father on Saturday and get all my hair chopped off. Tom then said, look, we have all of the equipment here, it can’t be too hard to cut each other’s hair. I said that I wasn’t too sure, as I had never cut someone’s hair before and besides, there was that huge bald patch on the top of Toms head.

Tom had a closer look in the mirrors and said that it wasn’t too bad. It just looked bad because the rest of his hair was so long. Just give me a buzz cut and it should be ok. Reluctantly, I agreed. Tom took control and told me what I needed to do. Pick up the clippers, put a number 4 guard on them to start with, and just buzz the top of my head. Switching the clippers on, the buzzing sensation in my hand felt strange but with a deep breath, I pushed the clippers through Toms hair. A mass of hair started to fall onto the cape and as I progressed around the top of his head, I really started to enjoy myself. Hitting the patch of hair that had been chopped, the clippers removed the hair surrounding it. Tom asked me how it looked. I told him that you could just see a slight variation. He told me to change the guard to a number 3 and run it over that area. I did as I was instructed. To my surprise, you couldn’t see any difference in length. Tom told me to do all of his head to the same length. I asked Tom how he knew how to do this? He said that he watched what the barber did when he used to go with his dad.

Once I had finished running the clippers all over his head, he checked in the mirror and said that he was satisfied. I just needed to use the small clippers, square off his sideburns, trim the hair around his ears and, square it off at the back. I was getting used to the clippers now, and slowly under Toms guidance, the haircut was finished. I blew off all of the loose hair and removed the cape.

Looking across at Frank, he was slumped in the chair, sound asleep. Tom asked me what I wanted to do. It was impossible to get a haircut out of Frank but, if I trusted Tom, he would give me a haircut. I thought about it and came to the conclusion that I would let Tom cut my hair. If it was messed up, I could always go with my father on Saturday.

I made my way into the chair, Tom caped me up and asked me what I wanted. Looking at Tom, I said, same as you. There will be two short hair kids in school on Monday. Tom asked if I wanted it as short as his, or he could do it longer, as I didn’t have a patch to take care of. I said no, let’s go with the number 3. Tom picked up the clippers and a comb and starting at the left side of my head, pushed the clippers all the way to the top.

In a few short passes the hair on the side of my head was removed. He moved to the back of my head, nudged my head downwards and started to run the clippers up the back of my head right up to the crown. The vibration of the clippers, started to bring back memories of the haircuts my father had requested the barbers give me. But this time, it felt strange. It was an enjoyable experience, not traumatic like I had previously felt. It was not long before the right side of my head was also clipped. When Tom started to run the clippers from my brow to the crown the sensation escalated, I didn’t want the feeling to stop. All too soon, I felt the hairdryer blowing across my face. I thought it was over but Tom said that he would taper the sides and back. With that he picked up the clippers, changed the guard to a number 2 and started to go around the sides and back of my head, not going quite as high as he had done with the first clipping. Once satisfied, he changed the guard to a number 1 and repeated the procedure again staying below the previous cut. Going around the edges with the mini clippers, my haircut was finished. Tom dusted around my head, picked up the hand mirror and showed me the back of my head. I couldn’t believe how good it looked. I thanked Tom and got out of the chair.

Frank was still out cold. We both looked at each other and said haircut time. It was a struggle getting Frank into the barber’s chair. But once in, Tom placed a cape around him and addressing Frank, asked what would sir like. Ah! So, a nice short haircut to tide you over; not a problem. With that, he handed me the clippers without a guard and said just run them all over his head. Hesitantly, I started to run the clippers over his head. What if he woke up? Fortunately, he was still sound asleep when I finished. Then Tom said, oh! sir wants the back and sides shorter, not a problem. With that he picked up the smaller clippers and ran them from bottom to top all the way around; one high and tight completed. Tom placed the clippers in Frank’s hand. We made our escape hoping that Frank would not remember us being there.

We stopped off at Toms house and his father said, see you have been to see Frank. Tom looked at his father and said no, he wasn’t around so we went to one of the high-street barbers. Toms father said that it was nice to see him back into short haircuts and he should keep it. Tom looked at me and said, only if I can get the same barber again. Of course, when I got home, my father was waiting, and the surprise look on his face, said it all.

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