Oh Brother Part II by deke Cutter

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I wrote the original "Oh Brother" years ago and have been asked to write a continuation. You might want to read the original before this one.

In order to gain admission to his preferred university, my son and I had to submit to my brother John’s conditions. These included a simple short ‘regular’ haircut for my son during the school year and a military flattop for me. I was also the subject of a severe paddling by my brother on the occasion of our first haircuts, to assure I understood who was in charge. My brother had been true to his word, assuring my son’s admission and so had my son. My son was a good student, and I was quite proud of his ability to modify his behavior and maintain his haircut to my brother’s standards. I, of course, became an object of curiosity and some derision with the sudden change in my appearance from a head of healthy flowing hair toa the military style flattop that I had to maintain throughout my son’s matriculation. I think that after the first six months of my new look, kept ‘fresh’ by weekly visits to my brother’s basement barbershop, I became inured to the comments, the discomfort of the bristles rubbing against my pillow, and the general homeliness of my appearance. I did not, however, get used to my brother’s use of his paddle to ‘correct me’ or to punish me if my son’s grade point average dropped below a 3.8 out of 4.0. My wife, Donna, remained a rock of stability, always reminding me that this "deal with the devil" would not last forever.

I also felt that my brother’s additional imposition of a flattop matching his and mine on my son each summer was cruel. But, upon my son’s return from his first year, we were summoned to my brother’s barbershop. "Son," I said, "I am so sorry your Uncle John is forcing this haircut on you for the summer."

"Oh dad," replied my son, as he took my head into his hands and gently rubbed them over the sides and back of my head, "guys my age are expected to get extreme haircuts at one end of the length spectrum or the other. I am so unworthy of the sacrifice that you have made."

I took my son in a bear hug and then rubbed my hand over my head and smiled weakly. "I do give your uncle credit in one way. Looking like this has been a humbling experience. I am no longer the "hot guy with the great hair". Now I’m just a sort of average manager, whose haircut intimidates the younger guys.

"Dad, I know about Uncle John’s other control tool. J.J. (my nephew) told me that he’s used it on him often enough. I hate that he has you in this position. J.J. thinks that he may convince him to ease up."

"Jake, don’t do anything to jeopardize your place at the university. That is just part of my brother’s makeup. He is a bully. He resented me from birth for taking some of your grandparents’ attention. But at the same time, he loves his kids, his wife and his niece and nephews. He believes that he has made me look more masculine and turned you into a clean-cut young man. I wish J.J. would have kept his own counsel about the corporal aspect of your uncle’s tools. But now that you know, just keep it between us."

When we arrived at my brother’s house, my sister-in-law Sheila was just leaving, saying "John says it’s boys night."

My brother quickly sent my son downstairs but held me back. "Listen, Nancy," he said to me, "I expect no tears tonight. Understood?"

"Yes John, after a year, I am used to your transformation of my appearance."

"Well whoop-de-doo, you finally look like a man should look, now let’s get downstairs."

I was surprised to see John’s son J.J., a year older than my Jake, with four inches of neatly combed hair on his head. This was well over 3 inches more than I ever recall seeing on his head. "Hello Uncle Peter," Michael said, dejectedly. After his father gave him a sharp look, he quickly added, "your haircut really suits you."

I was about to return the ‘compliment’ (but with regard to him, I really meant it), when my brother said, "Junior, you’re up first, since you obviously are most in need of a haircut. I noticed that my nephew sat rather gingerly in the antique barber chair, so I suspected his father had already provided some ‘correction’ to him before our arrival. "As you boys can see, Junior here, thought that he would test the limits this year while he away from home at school on the other coast. I warned him at Christmas to get that mess taken care of, he didn’t, and now he gets corrected." My brother had caped his son and taken a big clipper, without a guard and run it straight down the middle of his son’s head, leaving only the shadow of some stubble behind. He continued to run the clippers all over his son’s head until all of his hair was on the floor. Apparently not satisfied with the result, he picked up a foil razor and spent what seemed like forever making his son’s head look completely bald. "The cape was removed and his son, bravely remaining emotionless rose from the chair, went to the wall and picked up a broom and dustpan and proceeded to clean up all his hair and then place it all neatly in a large trash bin.

"OK, our other college boy is next." My son sat in the chair and waited. Once he was caped up, my brother said, "it’s flattop time," with a nasty smile on his face. He quickly obliterated the short hair on sides and back of my son’s head and went to work on the top, wetting the hair, blowing dry until it stood up and proceeding to slowly run the clippers over his flattop comb until he was satisfied with the reduced length. He followed that up with some scissor work, some blending and then his finishing touch, butch wax. I had been growing increasingly distressed as I saw my son being turned into a clone of me and his uncle. My brother seemed to realize how agitated I was and said to me, "don’t you think that is a fine haircut I’ve given your son?"

Before I could think, I replied, "technically perfect, as your haircuts always are, but from behind we look like twins. I preferred when we were distinguishable."

My brother didn’t immediately reply, but sent the boys upstairs, telling them, we had some things to discuss while I got my haircut. I dared not contradict him in front of the boys. I had not planed on another session in the chair because this was a Wednesday rather than my regular Saturday haircut time. Once the boys were gone, John told me to get into the chair. As I sat down, he said, "how dare you undermine me with your sour puss and smart mouth. I was just going to bring your trim up by a few days, but now that I have heard your complaint, I think we can take care of your issue of looking like a twin from behind."

"John, please, I am sorr…."

"Don’t say another word or I will shave you as bald as Junior!"

I stayed silent and my brother turned on his clippers and took my already short hair on the top down to barely a quarter inch. He then picked up the foil razor and began shaving my sides bald. His coup de grace was running the shaver down the middle of my head to create a huge bald landing strip. He then removed the cape and told me to "assume the position." He added as a reminder that he could just as easily get my son removed from the university as he got him accepted. I bent over the chair, lowered my trousers, and received five of the best from his paddle, again leaving me in tears of pain and embarrassment.

As I rose and pulled up my trousers, the door at the top of the steps opened and my son and nephew came bounding down the stairs. "Uncle John," my son said with a tone of anger and determination that I had never heard before, "my father does not deserve this treatment for wanting what is best for me." He then went over to the chair, dropped his trousers and said, "give me the same beating you gave my dad!"

"O.K. big man."

"John, I growled, with as much dignity as I could gather."

"No, dad, trust me on this", this young man that my wife and I had raised, requested.

And so, I stood in shock and anger as my brother paddled my son.

John Junior then stepped up next to my wet eyed son and said, "this nonsense is over dad, now it’s your turn," and pushed his father into the barber chair. He and Jake then tied him around the chest and arms with what looked clothesline. J.J. then picked up a pair of guardless clippers and shave his father’s head. He then picked up the foil shaver and finished the job. He then untied his absolutely furious father and pulled one of his father’s arms behind his back. He then asked Jake to hand him the paddle and proceeded to give him 10 hard whacks, leaving the bully furious and in tears.

Jake then said, "there are two very angry women who will be arriving here shortly. Mom and Aunt Sheila are not happy with you."

J.J. added, "this power trip of yours is over, dad. And by the way, smile, you are on camera, all of tonight’s shenanigans. Any one of the three of us could have you arrested for assault. Nothing negative will be said about Jake and, once you apologize to the three of us, life will go on. And by the way, dad, I just wanted to see what long hair was like. I planned to ask you to give me a crewcut for the summer, but you couldn’t wait." At that point the women arrived, and a sense of calm and order was restored. Donna got Jake and I home and Sheila warned John that they had a long night of talking ahead.

The next morning, Jake, Donna, and I sat at breakfast. I was surprised to see that Jake had butch-waxed his hair first thing. "Dad," he said, "I’ve been thinking. I agreed to Uncle John’s haircut and behavior rules and, he has held up his end of the bargain so far. If he still gives me the summer job, I’m thinking I should maintain my end of the bargain and be the guy with the dorky haircuts at school. Actually, there are a lot of jocks who wear their hair like mine was until last night, so it isn’t so bad."

I looked at Jake and was stunned at his decision and all that it implied. I said to him, "if your mom agrees, then I too will live up to my commitment to wear the flattop while you complete your four years, but I will be getting them at a barber’s, and they will not be so severe."

Donna looked at both of us and said, "I think you are both idiots who ought to be growing your hair down to your butts and making John do the same. But you are idiots and I love you both for the incredible men you are. I’ll run this whole thing past Sheila and see what she says."

Sheila made John apologize to everyone, took away his paddle, see a therapist about his control issues, and banned him from haircuts for a year. By the time Jake got home from college the next year, we both had a good laugh about John being the long hair. At that point, he and his therapist agreed that he should excuse Jake and I from our haircut regime and Sheila permitted him to get his flattop back. Jake and I have grown our hair out and look at the pictures of the two of us looking like Marines in "civvies" and laugh. But we both agree that sometimes we wish we could rub our hands on our stubbly short hair and feel that exhilaration that comes with it.

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