If You Pay, You Have All the Say by The Buzz Bros

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The neon sign outside of Mack’s Barbershop flickered against the gray Seattle afternoon, casting faint red and blue flashes over the slick pavement. The place was packed with high school boys looking for pre-weekend haircuts and older men settled into their usual routines, swapping stories over the rhythmic hum of clippers.

The door creaked open, and James and his older brother, Ben, stepped inside. Ben paused in the doorway, the warmth of the shop hitting him like a wave. It felt familiar, almost comforting. But today, there was a different energy in the air—one that put Ben on edge. James, a freshman barely out of middle school, was practically bouncing beside him.

Ben glanced over, trying to decipher his brother’s enthusiasm. "You’re acting weird," he muttered, his voice low and wary. "What’s up with you?"

James just grinned wider, the kind of grin that made Ben feel uneasy. "Nothing, Benny. I just like this place."

Ben grunted and looked around. Mack, the owner, was cutting an older man’s hair in the chair nearest the window. The clippers in his hand buzzed steadily, filling the shop with a constant, almost hypnotic vibration. The smell of talc, hair tonic, and aftershave blended together, a sharp, nostalgic scent that Ben associated with the simple, routine haircuts he’d been getting since he was a kid.

James strutted to an empty chair as soon as one of the younger barbers waved him over. He hopped in, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, and said, "Just a trim, please. Sides cleaned up, keep the top." He glanced back at Ben with a smirk, as if signaling the start of something that only he knew.

Ben felt a hint of suspicion but tried to shake it off. "At least he’s not messing around today," Ben thought, settling into one of the waiting chairs. He tried to relax, scrolling through his phone while keeping an eye on James.

After a quick trim, James got up, patting his newly neatened hair with satisfaction. He handed over the $15 for his cut and made his way toward Ben, who was next in line. "Your turn, Benny," James said, his voice a little too cheerful.

"Next!" called Mack, who had just finished trimming another customer. Ben reluctantly got up, feeling a slight pit in his stomach.

He settled into the barber chair, the worn leather cold against his neck as Mack draped a cape around him. The cape felt heavy, suffocating. Mack gave his usual greeting. "Just a trim, right, kid?" he asked, clippers in hand.

"Yeah, just a—" Ben started, but James was suddenly at his side, practically lunging forward.

"I’m paying," James declared loudly, pulling the remaining bills from his pocket with a flourish. He handed them to Mack with a mischievous glint in his eye. "But, uh, let’s do something different this time."

Ben’s stomach dropped. He turned to James, his eyes wide with panic. "What do you mean, different?"

James leaned closer to Mack, his voice low but clear. "Buzz it all off. I want his head shaved."

Ben’s heart pounded in his chest. He grabbed the arms of the chair, as if he could physically stop what was happening. "James, no. Seriously, stop. This isn’t funny."

But Mack, a man of few words and even fewer hesitations, simply nodded. "If the one with the cash says so," he said with a shrug, flipping the clippers to a more aggressive setting.

The moment Ben heard the louder buzz, his face flushed with anger and disbelief. "You can’t be serious," he thought, every muscle in his body tensing up. He tried to wriggle out of the cape, but it was cinched too tightly around his neck.

"Relax, Benny," James teased, his voice dripping with amusement. "Think of it as a fresh start."

Mack positioned the clippers over Ben’s forehead, the hum suddenly louder and more menacing. Ben’s mind raced, a mix of panic and humiliation coursing through him. "This is a nightmare," he thought. "This cannot be happening. I’m going to look ridiculous."

With a single pass, the clippers cleared a path down the middle of Ben’s head, leaving nothing but a strip of short stubble. The vibration was jarring, the feeling of hair falling in clumps to his shoulders oddly heavy.

Ben’s mouth felt dry, his heart hammering in his chest. "No, no, no," he thought, his eyes wide as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked like some kind of bizarre science experiment gone wrong. "I’m going to have to walk through school like this."

James leaned back, his grin now nearly splitting his face in two. He savored every pass of the clippers, every clump of hair that fell to the floor. "Looking good, Benny," he said mockingly.

"Shut up," Ben growled, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. "I swear, James, I’m going to kill you for this."

James was unfazed. He watched as Mack continued his work, the younger brother’s chest swelling with a kind of twisted pride. He loved how Ben’s face was turning redder by the second, how his fists were now clenched under the cape.

Mack moved around to the sides, running the clippers smoothly over Ben’s temples. The sides of Ben’s head were now almost completely shaved, and the sound of the clippers felt deafening. Each pass seemed to echo inside Ben’s head, amplifying his sense of dread.

"I can’t believe he’s actually doing this," Ben thought, his mind swimming in a mix of rage and humiliation. His scalp, now mostly bare, felt strangely cool as the air touched it. The sensation was new and unsettling. "Everyone at school is going to see me like this."

Mack’s movements were efficient, almost mechanical. He pressed the clippers around Ben’s ears, the vibrations strong enough to make Ben’s teeth chatter. The feeling of vulnerability was overwhelming, the reality of his bald head sinking in with each second.

"This is such a disaster," Ben thought, his jaw clenching harder. He tried to ignore the clippers’ relentless buzzing, the faint snickers of the other barbers, and the silent horror reflected back at him in the mirror.

By the time Mack moved to the back of Ben’s head, Ben’s entire scalp felt exposed, each stroke of the clippers sending a new wave of embarrassment through him. His hair—his once-proud brown locks that he had carefully styled for years—was now nothing but a memory, scattered on the floor like fallen leaves.

"Almost done," Mack said cheerfully, patting Ben’s nearly bare head. His voice was casual, as if this were just another cut on another day.

"Looking sharp," he added, a phrase that felt like a slap to Ben’s pride.

"Looking sharp," Ben repeated sarcastically in his head, unable to mask the anger in his eyes. "Yeah, I bet everyone will think I look sharp."

James leaned forward, taking in the sight of Ben’s now completely shaved head. "Perfect," he said with genuine satisfaction, unable to suppress a laugh. "I think you look great."

Ben’s eyes burned with fury. "You’re dead," he said flatly, his voice low and filled with promise.

James just laughed, standing up and grabbing his backpack. "Yeah, I figured you’d say that," he said, still basking in the glow of his victory. "But it’ll be worth it."

As Ben slowly got up, feeling the awkward coolness of his exposed scalp, he couldn’t stop himself from glaring at James with pure venom. He ran a hand over his stubbled head, the bristly feel only adding to his frustration.

Mack dusted off the cape, shaking off the last remnants of Ben’s hair onto the floor. "There you go, kid," he said. "All set."

Ben stared at himself in the mirror, trying to adjust to the shock of his new appearance. His head felt lighter, but the weight of what had happened settled heavily in his chest. He couldn’t stop the thought from echoing in his mind: "This is the worst day of my life."

James, on the other hand, strutted toward the exit, glancing back one last time. "Come on, Benny," he called, his voice filled with fake cheer. "Let’s go show off that fresh look."

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