An Issue of Conformity by P.J.

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A couple of the great authors here have said, write about what makes you happy, if others don't like it, its their problem, not yours.
I hope there are a few other readers who like this too.
Spoiler alert, this definitely isn't a shaven em bald story.
The story is broken into two parts, but could certainly continue further.

Let me introduce myself and give you a little back ground for the situation that I find myself in. My name is Morgan. I’m 18, going to be 19 soon. I’m what my dad refers to as young strapping lad. I think I’m pretty good looking, for a Welsh lad anyway. I have thick wavy reddish-brown hair that’s currently touching my shoulders in a sort of wolf cut style. My mom is the local hairdresser in our village. She has a room in the back of the house set up for this. Most of the women in the village come see her, a few of the guys, and of course me, my brothers, and our friends. None of us would be caught dead visiting the barber in the nearby village.

Our village is in South Wales. A mostly agricultural area. We farmers are generally a proud lot. Some are more prosperous than others. We don’t take kindly to being looked down upon though.

Some years ago, I believe back in the ‘80s, a gentleman went round Wales and established boys, and men’s choirs. Mainly to give the male populations something constructive to do. Some find the idea of guys singing together a bit odd, but those of us who participate find it rewarding, and enjoy the camaraderie it fosters. Some of us actually sound pretty good too. There are "Only Boys Aloud Choirs, for boys ages 14-19, and Only Men Aloud Choirs if you want to continue singing. The men’s Choirs are a bit more organized than the boys’ choirs. Boys don’t generally have to try out, everyone is welcome. There have been a few obvious ‘bad voices’ over the years though. Generally, the choir I’m in has between 15 and 20 boys at any given time. Participation isn’t mandatory, give that most of use are farming families and the farm comes first.

I’ve been a member of our local Only Boys Aloud Choir in our village for a number of years now. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed it (up to now, I’ll get into that in a minute). I’ve been working towards becoming Choir director. Usually, the Only Boys Aloud choir director’s area volunteers from one of the nearby Only Men Aloud choirs.

I should point out that we practice on Wednesdays and Saturdays, at a neighbor’s farm. We use their byre when the weather permits, as it can house all of us comfortably. When its really cold, we’ll all crowd into their front room in the house but that gets a bit awkward.

We are generally more interested in how you sound, than how you look, so we are quite a motley crew. Hairstyles amongst the boys vary greatly, but are generally on the longer side, somewhat scruffy or shaggy at times, might be cut by a mom, or sister in the family. Money isn’t usually wasted on something as frivolous as a barbershop haircut. Clothing also runs the gamut. Some of us have a decent pair of jeans and a pullover, others are in overalls or hand me downs, having rushed to get there after evening chores.

We perform at churches, parties, sometimes a wedding, and usually put on a more formal concert or two during the year at the grange hall. The local Chamber of Commerce is a sort of sponsor to host these events.

There is also an annual competition, where the choirs from all over Wales gather and compete, usually just after schools out in the spring. Our choir usually tries to have the boys wear dark pants, and a white button up shirt when we are singing in front of a group. Most of us do a decent job of being freshly showered and hair combed or styled even. The dark pants and white shirt are an attempt to make all of feel we are on equal footing with one another. Nobody gets to wear their Sunday best, while someone who can’t afford a new suit ais only wearing his brothers hand me downs. Sometimes the COC (Chamber of Commerce) steps in with a bit of financial help if the white shirt is a hardship. Our COC also provides ties for us. Personally, I like the ties. This year they are a deep purple color. (Goes great with my long auburn locks.) We don’t button the top button either. The look is a nice uniform casual one.

Our choir director of the last several years has been taken ill and is unable to coach us. The Local Only Men Aloud choir has provided a stand in for us. Oh, did I mention, I’m the assistant to the director. I really, really want to be the choir director for the boys choir next year when I move up. I’ll join the Only Men Allowed choir, but I want to continue with the boys, as their director too. They seem to be all for it and look to me for direction more than the new director. (Much to his chagrin.) We’ve been working hard rehearsing for an upcoming local concert, and of course for the big Wales Spring competition. It was going along very well till the new director showed up.

He’s been quite a negative Nancy. Very critical of our casual style. He’s looked down his nose at many of us who show up in our ‘farm clothes’. He’s been particularly critical of our hair too. I’ve noticed he thoroughly disapproves of my lush locks, as well as several of the other guys. He’s suggested more than once that he can pay for our haircuts at the barbers if our families can’t afford to keep us ‘presentable’. That’s pretty much a direct insult for a proud farming family. Personally, I find him to be a bit of a ‘Dandy’. As my dad would call him. He’s always dressed in expensive slacks, a dress shirt, sometimes a tie, and always seems to have a just cut severe short back and sides haircut. Usually slicked down with some sort of greasy gunk. Ugh. Quite a dweeb.

Tonight, as we finished up practice, he announced to the group that he’d spoken to the COC regarding our ‘uniforms’ for the big Wales competition. He has requested that we wear black dress pants, a crisp white button up shirt, and the new ties and vests the COC was going to be providing. We were to stop at a shop in the next village over in the coming weeks so they could measure us and order a properly fitting vest. He also strongly suggested we visit that villages barber and get a proper short back and sides while we were there. He was striving for uniformity amongst us boys so we would give a nice first impression at the competition. This didn’t sit well with any of us. Money is usually and issue with our families. We surely didn’t want to look like clones of this bozo either, Ugh. Being in the Only Boys Aloud Choir isn’t supposed to put a hardship on our families. That’s not the purpose of the Choir. I scanned the assembled group, taking in al the shaggy mops and manes, and tried to imagine us all with severe short back and sides cuts. I shuddered. Ugh.

As the weeks progressed, most of us did visit the clothing shop and get measured. We all, to a boy, gave the barbershop a wide berth. Most of us were more than fed up with this director’s implication that we were ‘poor farmers’ too. As I said before we might not be rolling in money, but we are a proud lot. We don’t take kindly to being looked down on. He was making us feel not good enough to be in the Choir unless we complied with his more or less mandatory dress and haircut ideas. The boys were becoming increasingly dissatisfied with him but didn’t know what could be done.

As the weeks went on and our local concert, and the big Whales the competition drew closer, he continued to express his extreme displeasure at our having ignored his request to get our hair cut. He made the mistake of singling out me, and one of our neighbors, as examples of how shaggy and unkempt we were becoming. Weren’t our parents embarrassed by the long messy hair we had been allowed to grow? We were positively disgraceful.

He flatly stated that he would be bringing the barber to us since we couldn’t seem to find our way to him. The barber would be coming to the next few practices and had agreed to volunteer his services as what he considered his civic duty to make us presentable for the competition.

Needless to say, we were floored. We’d always been told it didn’t matter much how we looked, it was how we sounded that was most important. The implication that we were all from poor farming families particularly irritated me, and a few of the other older boys. The director stated that I would be the first to receive a haircut next week as an example of good leadership. Cal, my long-haired neighbor (and very close friend) would follow me. (Cal had only just turned 18). He had thick heavy bright blond shoulder blade length hair. I knew he had my mum trim him once or twice a year. His brothers and father all had long lush blonde locks too. No one was going to be shearing his mane if I had anything to say about it, mine either. (I thought he looked amazing as is.) We would continue with the mandatory haircuts after practice until we’d all been ‘sheared into proper looking young men’. I was instantly furious. Cal almost burst into tears.

After practice, before we left, I cornered the director and told him in no uncertain terms that I would be having my mum give me a trim before the competition. Several of the other members were friends of mine and I told him that at least those boys would also be having my mum give them a trim. If he were to insist on bringing the barber to practices, I would not be participating in any short of shearing. Nor would any of the other boys if I had any influence on them. He might as well cancel the barber visits before he wasted the barber’s time.

I walked home with Cal after practice and calmed him down. No one was going to touch his mane. I would make sure of that.

Several of the boys sought me out before the next practice. They didn’t want to attend the next practice if they were going to be required to the scalped. I assured them that they didn’t have to submit to any sort of shearing and to come to practice. We’d sort it all out there.

I spoke to my dad after practice that night too. He was part of the local Only Men Aloud choir. Our new director had come from this particular choir so I figured my dad would at least know something about him. Dad gave me an earful. OH, yes, he was aware of him. He was one of the shopkeepers from the next village (The one with the barber) He was quite a ‘prissy pants’ as dad called him. He looked down his nose at the ‘poor farmers’ in dads’ group too. He’d tried his ‘uniformity’ crap with dads’ choir to but it had also fallen on deaf ears. Dads choir was glad to be rid of him, at least for a while. His best advice was to just ignore the barber when he showed up. If things got bad enough, he’d talk to mom and see if she could spare some time to make sure the boys were trimmed up before the competition. We could also move practice to our byre and have me direct, with oversight from dad, if things got bad enough.

Sure enough, when we met for the next practice, the director had the barber in tow. He’d brought all the necessary gear too. No doubt drooling at the promise of 15 or 20 shaggy guys needing shearing. My friends stayed close to me throughout practice, as did Cal. I’d had my mum trim my lush locks a few days before practice. I’d also taken the time to wash em and style them neatly. After practice, when called upon, I could say that I’d had a haircut and this was as short as my hair was going to get. Screw him and his short back and sides mentality.

As practice ended, the director asked me, Cal, and a few select others with long shaggy mops, to stay behind. As the barber got his gear out, a stool was placed in front of him by the director. "Morgan, front and center please" the director barked. "We don’t want to Keep Mr. Hagen waiting now. He’s been gracious enough to volunteer his time to get you shaggy farm boys clipped into shape." He quickly reiterated to Mr. Hagen that he would be administering a severe short back and sides, similar to his own, on each of the boys. I caught Mr. Hagen staring at me, almost drooling. I decided to tease him a bit, since I wasn’t going anywhere near that stool. I looked down, my thick chin length fringe cascading over my face. I pushed my fingers into it and worked it slowly back and off to the side as I lifted my head up. Giving him a sly smirk. Cal was also watching me closely.

I addressed the director, "Sir, with all due respect, I’ve had my mum give me a haircut this week. I won’t be needing Mr. Hagen's services. I don’t think any of these other boys will either, will you guys"?

The director approached me. He made the colossal mistake of raising his hand and running it through my hair. My thick fringe sliding down over my face again. "Morgan" he huffed. "Go sit on that stool immediately. You clearly haven’t had a hair on your shaggy head touched. This mop is positively disgraceful." He sounded like a drill sergeant, what a dick I thought to myself.

I knew I had to keep my cool or things would quickly get out of hand. "I’m sorry you feel that way sir. I won’t need Mr. Hagen's services though. If you really try and insist. Maybe you can find another assistant director to replace me. I won’t be continuing since you find my appearance so disgraceful. I know I have a fine voice and one of the other choirs in the area is sure to take me on till I turn 19 in a few months. Then I can replace you as director.

The director was getting redder, and redder as I spoke. I was quite proud of myself for keeping my cool. I had surprised myself with the last-minute threat of leaving. The thought of leaving this choir saddened me, I really liked this group of guys, and we sang extraordinarily well together, as least until this asshole showed up.

The director must have realized that I was serious. "I’m sorry you feel that way. I think that would be a huge mistake but, it’s your choice, of course. I could tell he was positively seething but trying to maintain his self-control. I almost giggled at him, he was so red faced.

Since I’d proven to be uncooperative, he set his sights on Cal. Cal gave me a panicked look as the director approached him.

"Ah, Cal, since Morgan doesn’t seem to want to do what’s necessary to ensure conformity amongst you boys, surely you’ll have a seat over here." The director had gently locked onto Cals arm as he said this, and was doing his best to propel him over to the stool. With a bit of not so gentle persuasion, he managed to get Cal over to the stool and was trying to get him to sit down on it. I took a look at Mr. Hagen, who had the dastardly cape in hand, ready to capture his first victim.

He was almost drooling at the site of Cals lush locks swinging madly while he struggled with the director.

"Um, sir!" Cal squeaked. "No really sir. It’s not necessary. I don’t need a haircut sir. Please no! Morgan, help me!" Cal was almost in tears. As the director was forcing him to sit. Mr. Hagen quickly wrapped him in the cape. Pulling the thick locks up thru the neck opening. The blonde mane cascaded down against the cape in all its glory. Fully shoulder blade in length. The director was standing over Cal. Preventing him from getting away.

"Ah, now" the director cooed. There's a good lad, let Mr. Hagen get you clippered up. You’ll look so much better. A sterling example for the rest of the group." Nice and tight now Mr. Hagen, we want these haircuts to last awhile."
Mr. Hagen now had a firm grip on Cals head, forcing it down, chin to the chest. Cals face had disappeared under the lush thick collar bone length bang locks flopping furiously as he struggled with the director.

The sight of Mr. Hagen brandishing the huge clippers, and his evil grin, shook me to my core. Oh, God, they were the big Oster 76s, yikes. I knew my mom had a pair just like em. She used them on the older farmers who just came in for an annual shearing. I heard the evil clippers clack as they fired up, quickly spinning up to full power. They were fast approaching the back of Cals head, ready to plunge into Cals Lush mane.

The director was practically moaning with glee. "Ah, yes, lets get this overgrown bulk stripped away, shall we lad?"

Things almost seemed to happen as if in slow motion. In the moment I knew I had to stop this. I knew I would be in big trouble if I tackled either the Director, or Mr. Hagen. Suddenly, I saw where the clippers were plugged in. Cal had jerked forward, startled when the clippers clacked to life, trying desperately to protect his lush locks. The director was struggling with Cal to make him sit back again, so Mr. Hagen could feed the thick bulk into the hungry clipper blades. I knew enough about clippers to know that these would be cutting sinfully short as there was no guard on them. Just as they were making contact with Cals plush mane I reached the plug and pulled frantically. The byre was suddenly quiet. I looked at Cal just in time to see a thick hank of his treasured mane fall to the ground.

I rushed over to Cal. Firmly pushing the Director out of the way. Mr. Hagen was busy trying to get the clippers plugged in again. "Get up Cal." I barked, reaching for the snaps on the cape to release it as he stood.

As Cal stood the cape fell away. He turned to thank me, and caught sight of the thick hank of severed blonde lock laying forlornly on the ground. He reached up and felt the back of his head. Fortunately, when Cal leaned forward, the clippers only made contact with the lush bulk hanging low, and not directly on his nape. Cal let out a forlorn wail that filled the byre. "NO! MY hair!"

Mr. Hagen meanwhile had plugged the clippers in again and was standing ready. "Ah, well, the damage has been done now young mister Cal. How about you sit back down here and we’ll finish the job, shall we."

I barked. "You’ll do no such thing Cal. I quickly inspected the damage. Shielding him from Mr. Hagen. This is salvageable without getting a severe short back and sides, to be sure. We’ll talk with my mum tonight. Whirling on Mr. Hagen I said, "you might as well pack up your thing’s sir. You’ll do no more damage here tonight." Turning to the rest of the guys standing close I said "Let’s go guys. I think we’re done here." I started for the door with a quietly sniveling Cal in tow. He was pawing at the back of his head. As we gathered up our music and personal items to leave, we paused to hear the conversation between Mr. Hagen and the director.

I heard Mr. Hagen addressing the director. "Tristan, when we discussed this, you assured me that the boys were completely on board with getting short haircuts. I had my doubts but figured I’d come along and see. "He scanned the rest of the group as they were leaving. "Do any of you want to take a seat here and let me give you a nice short haircut?" He was met with silence as we filed out of the byre.

My friend Seth piped up, "If the director is going to insist on us getting scalped as a condition of singing in the competition, I’m out. I’ll go with Morgan and join one of the other choirs. I’m not interested in conforming to some ridiculous notion that we all need to get the same identical scalping to look good. Morgan's mum cuts my hair too and I think I look great. (Seth had a handsome thatch of dark brown hair that partially covered his ears and nape, quite a bit shorter than mine, with a nice thick bang fringe that was currently pushed to the side.) I knew for a fact he looked fantastic with a bit of product in it and brushed back. He’d worn it that way many times for our performances. In fact, thinking about it for a minute, all these guys did clean up pretty well when it was necessary, without severe scalping’s. This director hadn’t yet seen how good we could look when required. The local concert was this coming Sunday afternoon. I’d speak to the boys and ask them to put in some extra effort to look their best.

I looked directly at Mr. Hagen. "Sir, is there any likelihood that you’d be willing to give any of these boys, just a trim, and not a thorough scalping as Tristan suggests we all need. I for one, think a severe short back and sides, such as he has, would look truly hideous on any of us. His makes him look quite prissy, to be sure." I was done with this charade and quite done with him as choir director. As you can see, none of us is interested in becoming a ridiculous looking clone of this buffoon. Mr. Hagen seemed to ponder this for a minute.

Thinking more about the situation, I addressed the guys. "I know all of us aren’t here but…. I can do one of two things. I can speak to the Only Men Aloud Choir and see if someone else besides this dandy would volunteer to help coach us for the competition. My dad happens to be a member. Or, (I paused for effect) I can quietly leave this group and find another choir. I have no qualms about doing either one. I’ll miss you guys but I won’t stand for his demeaning attitude any more. You can let this dandy lead whoever remains after tonight. I’d strongly advise you to steer clear of this stool and Mr. Hagen though. The important thing for this choir is sounding great, not looking uniform.

I looked at the Director. He was spitting and sputtering. Red faced.

As I walked away, I heard Mr. Hagen say "well Tristan, that didn’t go so well now. You know, I’d be happy to come back at the next practice and offer to trim anyone who wanted one. I agree, most of these boys could use a little attention, just to help them look extra good. None of them needs a severe short back and sides though. I’m just as good with scissors and comb as I am with clippers, if given the chance. And having the privilege of listening to them tonight, I have to say, they really have something special here. They sound amazing. I’ve attended the big Wales Choir competition in years past and I really think they could win it. You may have already blown your chance though. If Morgan leaves, he’s a big part of what keeps this group in line and sounding great. He also has an amazing solo voice, I don’t know who you’d get to replace him." I’d started walking away again, soon enough I was out of hearing rage and didn’t really care anyway.

I walked Cal home and explained to his dad what had happened. I could tell his dad was hopping mad but was trying to stay calm and not get Cal any more riled up than he already was. The damage wasn’t all that bad the section that was now missing was only about 4 inches long, but right in the middle of Cals back. You could see it if Cal moved his head just right. I offered to have my mum take a look at it tomorrow and see what she might be able to do. Cals dad thought that might be a good idea too. When I got home, I also told my mum and dad what had happened. Dad was not pleased either. Mum said she’d be happy to try and fix things for Cal if he wanted.

Over the next couple of days most of the guys came to me to ask what I was going to do. They wanted to go where ever I did. I did contact the Only Boys Aloud director in the next county and see if I could join their group. He was more than happy to have me if that was what I decided.

I also spoke to the director of the Only Men Aloud choir that my dad belonged to. I explained what was going on. I’d thought about it and if they had anyone who could take the director’s position for our choir and give the current idiot the bums rush, I’d stay with our group.

They assured me that someone would come to our next rehearsal and help. I got the word out that we should all meet one more time, and that I would be there.

Rehearsal night was interesting to say the least. The director was there, with Mr. Hagen in tow again. Oh boy. As they boys trickled in, I was surprised to see Cals dad appear (I’d forgotten that he was also a member of the Only Men Allowed Choir that dad belonged to.). Then my dad also appeared.

Hmm, were they here as concerned parents, or representatives that might take the directors place for us.

I didn’t have to wait long to find out. Cals dad approached the director. In a booming voice, he explained that I had come to the Only Men Aloud Choir and asked for help. He also addressed Mr. Hagen, saying he was sorry he had been dragged back for no reason. None of these boys was going to be forced to get a haircut by anyone, least of all you, Tristan." "Boys," Cals dad said, addressing the group now." Morgan has expressed a desire to remain with this group if a new director can be found. Since Morgan's dad and I are both members of the Men’s choir, I’m going to make this simple. Both of us are going to take over as acting directors. Tristan will no longer lead you. Morgan, will you stay if we help out?"
I was shocked to say the least. I nodded my head yes. "Yes, of course I’ll stay. But only if he leaves." I said, pointing to Tristan.

Cals dad looked at the group. "Well boys what do you all think? Anyone want Tristan to stay on?" This was followed by dead silence.

Cals dad turned to Tristan. "Well Tristan, I guess you’ll just have to go looking for a group of guys that is a bit more willing to be dandified. There's the door." He pointed to the big door to the byre. Looking at Mr. Hagen he said "I don’t see a reason for us to waste any more of your time either sir." He turned back to the boys. Looking at me he said, "now then, suppose we get started with rehearsal, shall we."

Mr. Hagen piped up. "If I may, sir. I have to say this is a fine-looking group of young men sir. I have had the privilege of hearing them sing recently too. I’d like to stay on until the end of rehearsal tonight if possible. I’d also like to apologize to Cal. "Cal, I got caught up in the moment, and didn’t listen to your protests. I thought Tristan had all of you on board for haircuts. I can easily give you enough of a trim to hide my terrible mistake from the other night if you would let me. I’ll understand completely if you don’t want me to, though. I can assure you, I’m quite good at giving a tidy up trim to any of you that want one. Just to help you look your best. No severe short back and sides either. I can assure you, I’m very skilled with a pair of shears and would gladly do only what you ask me to. I promise I won’t scalp anyone either." He addressed my dad directly. "Sir, I know of your wife and can see that she’s very good with the shears too. You sons hair is a perfect example." Looking at the rest of the group, "I can certainly give anyone a trim like Morgan's as an example."

Cals dad smiled. "Hmm, well sir, you are certainly welcome to watch rehearsal. I’m not sure you’ll get any takers for haircuts though. Most of these boys get home haircuts, or they go to Morgan's mum. Cal is my son, and he’s free to do whatever he wishes, should he want a trim from you to fix your mistake.

Tristan made some last disparaging remarks about what a slovenly bunch of Neanderthal farmers we were as he gathered his things to leave.

Cals dad reached behind his head, removing the hair tie from his own plush thick blonde mane that reached halfway down his back. Shaking it out in all its glory. "Anyone here think I look slovenly? Perhaps you sir?" He looked at Mr. Hagen.
Mr. Hagen gasped. "Oh, my no sir. That’s quite a mane, to be sure. You clearly take great care of it though. There’s nothing even remotely slovenly about you sir." Mr. Hagen addressed Tristan, "that comment is quite out of line, even for you Tristan. I believe the door is over there." Mr. Hagen gestured to the byre door.

The director huffed loudly and marched off. Slamming the door as he exited.

We all settled down and got on with rehearsal. We did a dry run of the concert we were to give this Sunday at the local Grange Hall. After we finished our last piece, we heard applause, or more correctly, a singe person clapping. Mr. Hagen was beaming. "Gentlemen, this has been an amazing privilege. I will be in attendance at Sunday’s concert for sure. I will also be sure to attend the Wales competition again this year. I feel you are almost sure to win. He stood and started gathering his things.

Cals dad approached him. "Mr. Hagen, is it?" He said extending his hand to be shook. Mr. Hagen shook his hand enthusiastically. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance sir. You’ve done a great job tonight. This is an outstanding group of young men."

Cals dad replied. Well, thank you. We think they’re pretty good too. Say, I was wondering, before you put your gear away, um…" He stroked his thick mane. As he spoke." I’ve never had the pleasure of having a haircut by a real barber. I was wondering, could give me just a trim? I surely don’t want a short back and sides, but I realize this is getting a little long for me. I usually have Morgan's mum trim a few inches off in late spring before it gets too hot. Seeing as how you’re here and all, could I impose on you to do it?"

You could have heard a pin drop in the byre. All the boys were now laser focused on the exchange between Cals dad and Mr. Hagen. Most of all Cal. "Dad, really!" Cal burst out.

"Cal," his dad quietly replied. You know full well we have Morgan's mum give all of us a trim, taking a few inches off, every spring. I see no harm in letting Mr. Hagen do it, considering he’s a barber and all. He’s said he can trim as well as cut, so I’m willing to give him a try." Turning to Mr. Hagen he said, "You can just give me a trim, right?"

"Why, yes, of course sir. I can trim as little or as much as you like. I’d be happy to do it. And my name is Marc, please.

Cals dad smiled at Marc. He then plunked himself down on the stool. Looking at Marc expectantly.

Cal was gob smacked. "Dad, you’re not! Oh, my God!"

Cals dad shrugged his shoulders. "Cal, I have plenty of hair. Let him at least try."

Marc wasted no time capping Cals dad. "Now then sir. What would you have me do?"

"Well, seeing as I’m still a bit early for my annual shearing. Could you cut 5 inches or so off the bottom. I don’t want anything fancy now. Just straight across will be fine."

"Yes, of course, Marc replied. Marc brushed all Cals dad’s hair back behind his ears, stroking over and over with the brush to make sure it was all brushed to the back and hung nice and even. I was impressed with the length of the mane. I’d always admired his dad’s hair but never seen it brushed out like this. It was truly impressive. Lush, thick, and shining in the lights of the byre, the same blonde as Cals.

"5 inches you say, right?" Marc chirped. He gently pushed a finger into Cals dads back, indicating where his hair stopped now. "It’s currently down to here. 5 inches will bring it up to approximately here. Sound alright?"

"Sure, a bit more or less is fine." Cals dad chuckled. ‘I’ve got more than enough to work with."

Suddenly the byre was filled with the loud snipping sounds as almost 6 inches of thick heavy locks were severed from Cals dad’s mane. As the snipping continued, small gasps and moans could be heard amongst the boys. You could also hear soft wows, holy s**ts, and yikes uttered, as handful after handful of blonde locks fell to the ground.

I was intrigued. I wondered what it would be like to have a gorgeous mane like that, and be entrusting it to a total stranger to have 6 inches cut off. Yikes.

"If you’ll allow me," Marc said to Cals dad. "I’d like to layer the bottom a bit, so it isn’t so blunt." He pulled the thick mane away at Cals dads’ nape for a minute. "I’d also like to do a bit of cleanup along here" he brushed a finger along the nape" and around your ears, just to neaten it up."

Everyone saw Cals dad gulp as he replied, "well, you are a barber after all. If you think it’ll look good, um, sure. Let’s give it a try. I have to admit the thought of clippers at my nape isn’t a pleasant one though."

"Ah" Marc crooned, stroking the impressive mane. "Not to worry sir. There’ll be no scalping here tonight. It’ll be a privilege to trim up such a handsome mane sir."

I was a bit concerned, I saw how Marc looked at Cals dads mane with lust filled eyes.

Cal was watching intently now, so was I. As were most of the rest of the boys. Marc made quick work of layering the blunt ends. It looked great. Now Marc had clippers in his hand. They weren’t the massive Osters, they were a much smaller pair.

Marc held Cals dad’s massive mane off to the side with one hand, and deftly removed the bushy thick neck fuzzies with the small clippers. A small pile of downy fluff accumulated on the cape. Next, Marc held the side of Cals dad’s mane up out of the way at his ears, while he cautiously removed the wild hairs in front of the ear and squared off the side burn. He repeated this on the other side. Now with the thick mane brushed back, the area around the ears, and at the temple, looked nice and neat and tidy. "There now sir. Let me get the hand mirror so you can have a look." Marc held the hand mirror out and moved Cals dad’s hair around so he could see at least the area around his ears, and a bit of the cleanly shaved nape area. Marc brushed all the hair back behind the shoulders again.

"Cal, can you come over here for a minute?" His dad asked. "You know how it looks when I get it cut every spring. Take a look back there and see what you think please."

Cal pushed a finger in where the length now stopped." Um, well, it stops here now dad."

"O.K., how’s it look? Nice and neat and tidy I hope."

Cal paused, studying his dad’s hair for a moment. "UM, well…Actually it looks really good."

Cal walked around and stood directly in front of his dad now. His dad looked him in the eyes. He quietly asked." Do you think it looks good enough that you might want Marc here to try and fix yours?"

Cal knew better than to smart mouth something back at his dad. "OH!" he said gulping audibly. "Um, hmm." He was clearly apprehensive.

"Marc" Cals dad said. Are we finished?"

"Well, yes, unless you ‘d like me to do something more." Marc replied anxiously.

"No" Cals dad replied. This looks fine, better than I was expecting. It’ll do nicely. How about if you uncape me?"

Marc brushed Cals dad down and uncapped him. He stood, pulling the thick mane around front to have a look at it. He smiled back at Marc, nodding his approval. "Cal, take a seat if you want lad. Let’s at least see what Marc might do."

Cal, clearly reluctant, but not wanting to disobey his dad, sat gingerly on the stool.

Marc smiled, pulling Cals thick mane aside while he caped him. The he started brushing the thick mane out all around. "Ah, Cal, your hair is very similar to your fathers. Plush and thick with lots of body, and very well taken care of too.

Would you allow me to repair the damage I’ve done to it. I really do feel bad about it."

Cal squeaked "Um, well, sir. I REALLY don’t want to have it cut short. I usually get a good trimming in the spring along with dad and my brothers, but he had agreed to let me skip it this year so it would get longer like his. I guess that’s not going to happen, is it dad?" Cal looked over at his dad, utterly defeated.

His dad said, "Cal, I don’t think Marc is going to scalp you. If he trimmed it just to even it out, it would still be a bit longer than what we’d normally cut off for your summer cut. I’ll watch Marc, as I’m sure most of the other boys here will, and make sure he doesn’t get greedy."

Marc assured Cal he could just get the minimum amount trimmed to make it look right. "In fact, I can cut it so the bangs and fringe stay longer if you want. That would look nice too."

Cal sighed deeply. "Well, I would like it to be fixed for the concert this Sunday. I guess if you can leave everything as long as possible then, O.K. Um, Morgan, can you come over hear and watch him. Don’t let him scalp me, please?"
You could have heard a pin drop in that byre at that moment. It would seem the rest of the boys were holding their breath, waiting for the first cut. Marc parted Cals mop low on each side, and deep in the back. "I’ll have to remember to bring a spray bottle on Saturday if any of you other boys want me to trim you up. I’ll do my best without it for now."

Without a word being spoken, a bucket of water appeared at Marcs feet. Will this do for today sir?" The boy whose farm it was that we were rehearsing in had fetched it.

"Ah, I believe we can make due with this, thank you lad." Marc said. He awkwardly wet Cals top locks down so they stayed out of the way for the most part. Marc started trimming. He deftly removed the thick locks hanging lower than the cut section in back. The pile of blonde locks was growing quickly at his feet, Cals now adding to his dads.

Cal scanned the faces of the boys crowded around the stool as Marc snipped away. A few looked a bit shell shocked, but for the most part he only saw genuine concern, and a bit of curiosity on most faces. His dad’s face was placid, nodding occasionally as a particularly thick shank hit the ground. I was laser locked on the cutting that was taking place on the back of Cals head.

Marc was deeply concentrating on Cals mane. Once he had finished lopping off the heavy bulk, to make it even in back, he took his brush and brushed all the thick top locks and fringe straight back. The top locks hung just a bit lower than the fresh cut. Marc carefully snipped just at the center, then brushed al the top locks forward again. The snipped lock now stood out, shorter than the rest of the fringe, by a bit more than an inch. Marc ever so cautiously snipped from the center shorter section, back to the long locks around Cals ears. He now had a fringe that had a deep v shape to it. "Now then Cal" Marc said as he gently brushed all the thick fringe and top locks up and back again. "Let me just layer this bottom a bit, and we’re finished. He quickly layered it, removing the bluntness but keeping it nice and thick. "Oh, just one more thing" Marc said, reaching for the smaller clippers. Let’s get that neck fur trimmed up, shall we?" Cal flinched as the clippers fired up. Marc puled the still long thick mane out of the way and removed just the fuzzies from Cals nape. He also nipped the bottoms of the sideburns that were starting to grow in front of Cals ears. "There, now I’m finished. I hope you like it lad. I’ve cut the fringe so you can wear it brushed back out of your face and not have to middle part it. YOU can also easily tuck it under a cap, or behind your ears, if you wish. You have such a handsome face and brilliant blue eyes lad." Marc handed him the hand mirror.

As Cal examined Marcs handiwork, he looked at his dad. "Dad, I can’t really see in back. Does it look O.K.?" He frowned as he ran his hand from the crown down the back. Running out of hair to feel.

"I think it looks quite good Cal, considering how much Marc had to cut to fix things. It’s probably too short for a good pony tail right now, but you won’t have to cut it for a whole year again if you don’t want." Cals dad was nodding his head approvingly.

"Morgan, what do you think" Cal said almost in a whisper.

I replied "It’s O.K. Cal. Its shorter but you’d never know that any damage was done now, at least. It’ll grow out nicely too. (I‘d often wondered what it would feel like to run my hands through all that plush bulk.) I couldn’t resist a quick stroke on the back of his head to indicate where it stopped now though. MMMN.

Cal looked down, then back up again. The thick fringe covered his face. He ran his hand up under and flipped the fringe straight back. OMFG, did he ever look good. I made a mental note to take some pictures of him with this cut. That was how I wanted mine cut when it grew out long enough. Wow. No more cuts for me for at least a year I thought to myself.

You could also hear approving murmurs amongst the boys.

Marc Brushed Cal down and unsnapped the cape. Cal stood, fluffing his mane. He looked at me. "Morgan, I think this is as good as your mum would have done. What do you think?"

I smiled, "I want you to come over tomorrow and show her, Cal. I want to make sure she knows how to cut it like this." (I’d talk to him about how much I personally liked it later, when there weren’t so many ears around.)

Cals dad looked around. "O.K. Boys, it’s getting late, and it’s a school night. Marc, thank you for spending the time. I think this evening turned out rather well, all things considered. Boys, we only have Saturday’s rehearsal, then the concert on Sunday. Please dress as you would for the concert when you come on Saturday. We want to make sure all of you have what you need for Sunday.

Marc piped up. "If there is anyone else interested in having a trim up, I can certainly come back Saturday evening, even a bit early. I’ll only come back if there’s interest though. I’m not forcing anyone mind you."

One or two boys expressed cautious interest. "Alright then, I can be here an hour before rehearsal time if anyone can make it beforehand. I can also stay for a bit after too, like tonight.

With that the group broke up and headed for their respective homes. Cal and I walked out ahead of our dads. "Morgan, does my hair really look O.K.?" Cal quietly said, giving a small giggle.

‘Yeah, I really like it man." I replied. "That’s why I want you to come over and show my mum. I’m going to let mine grow out. I want it cut just like yours. I want to take some pictures with my phone so she’ll have a reference. It’ll probably take a year to get it that long." I was wishing now I hadn’t been so hasty to get mine trimmed. Mum had taken off a good couple of inches in back. Ugh.

Cal giggled again. I said, "Why are you giggling?"

He looked at me smiling sheepishly. "Good, cause I really like it like this. I can even tuck my fringe behind my ears and it still stays. I know its shorter, I’m really glad you think it’s O.K. too."

I reached over and fluffed the back of Cals hair a bit with my fingers. The thick fringe slid down so he had to run his hand up into it and push it back. Cal gave a contented sigh. I moaned quietly.

As we continued walking home, I got lost in thought wondering what I’d look like when my hair had grown out enough for that cut. It wasn’t very long in the back at the moment. I did have nice long bangs so I was confident that in a years’ time I’d have more than enough fringe length to work with. Still lost in thought, I stopped walking for a minute. I gave Cals shoulder a shake, his thick fringe falling forward. I ran MY hand up into it, pushing it back. I moaned, I loved the feel of the thick soft locks sliding through my fingers. "Oh yeah. That’s just how I want mine. That’s nice Cal, really nice." I cooed and started walking again. Cal gave a small chuckle.

I was looking forward to our Saturday rehearsal. I planned to get there early to see if and who might take the opportunity for a trim before rehearsal. I was realizing I secretly loved watching guys get haircuts. Especially Cal.

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