Bald Bonding by 8-ball

---

The last day of term was upon us already, and my mother’s new boyfriend’s last words to me as I’d left this morning were to remind me to get a ‘decent’ haircut on the way home from school, or he’d shave my head himself. We’d known Jack for only a few months, and he’d only moved into our house a few weeks ago, so we were still getting used to one another.

My brother and I seemed to hit it off all right with him, though he could be somewhat strict at times, my brother had already had a thrashing after he was caught smoking by Jack in the town. To be fair he really did seem to care for my mother and her for him.

At the end of school I stayed on to play a game of baseball against some of the teachers. It went on for a while, and on reaching home and seeing my brother realised that I had totally forgotten about getting my haircut. My brother Tom, had had his hair trimmed up, no longer was it spilling into his eyes, even the tips of his ears were exposed. This was as close as Tom ever came to a summer haircut.

I glanced at the clock to see if I still had time to dash to the barbers. It would be close, but it was worth a try. I sprinted down the driveway and along the street. It took ten minutes for me to reach the shop, only to find the door locked as I arrived. Inside I recognised a few boys from school, sitting waiting their turn in the chair, but the barber had shut up shop as far as I was concerned.

Defeated I ambled back home. As I walked back up the driveway Jack was climbing out of his car, my heart sank to see him sporting an impressive short buzzcut, much shorter than his normal cut.

‘Hey kid, I told you to get a decent haircut didn’t I?’ he boomed.

‘Yes sir’ I replied respectfully, ‘Only after I’d finished playing baseball against the teachers at school, the barber had lock the shop doors because the queue was so long.’ I stammered.

‘Oh you must have been disappointed, but don’t worry I’ll soon fix you up.’ he walked with me to the porch, hand around my shoulder, guiding me gently into the house. I was relieved, I didn’t seem to be in trouble.

I ran upstairs to change out of my uniform, slipping on shorts and tee-shirt. Hungry I ran back downstairs in search of a snack before dinner. As I began munching my way through a packet of chocolate biscuits I heard Jack shouting for me.

Dutifully, I went to see what he wanted, after cramming another biscuit into my mouth.

I found him on the back porch, standing over a folding chair, he’d set up in the middle of the floor. He pointed at the chair.

‘Take your tee-shirt off and sit down lad.’ he barked. It never crossed my mind not to obey, and perched on the end of the canvas seat.

Jack turned around, wearing a grin from ear to ear. ‘This’ll fix you up just right.’ he told me, and I watched him remove a set of electric hair clippers from a black leather pouch.

My eyes must have popped out on stalks, but I didn’t dare protest. Jack was a large man, as Tom had found out the other week, Tom had only just recovered from the trauma of Jacks thrashing.

He plugged in the clippers, and they clicked into life. His eyes lit up as he inspected the vibrating clipper blades. My stomach was in knots, wary of what might be to come. He’d understood why I hadn’t had a haircut, hadn’t he?

‘You know, I used too really look forward to my summer haircut, my father would line us all up as we arrived back home after school on the last day of term, sit us down on the porch and one by one give us our summer buzz cuts.’ he told me.

‘Have you any preference? he continued. ‘Flat-top, crew-cut, brush cut.’ he suggested.

I shrugged, I’d never had my hair cut that short before, and had never really considered what style I’d like.

Jack obviously sensed my dilemma, ‘Never had a clipper cut before lad, why don’t you leave it up to me then.’

Relieved that I didn’t have to make a decision, I nodded. Jack grinned back at me wryly, as he walked behind me, clutching the clippers tightly in his hand.

His free hand gripped my head from the forehead, whilst the clippers hummed into life, and ploughed their way down the centre of my head. I am sure I flinched at the sensation, but Jack’s grip was like a vice, his second pass caused a bundle of hair to fall down onto my bare shoulders.
I was an unusual experience sitting in the porch, forcibly having my hair sheared away, no control over what was happening and no view of how it looked. I closed my eyes, accepting the ordeal as best I could.

I sensed Jack was enjoying his work, he didn’t say a word throughout my haircut, biting his tongue in animated concentration.

At that moment my brother walked into the room, he paused at the door, initially shocked at the scene he walked into. Recovering he looked at me and grinned. ‘I guess the barber’s had shut, tough luck bro!’ he added.

I tried to nod, but couldn’t. I smiled back through gritted teeth. Jack looked up and noticed Tom for the first time. He gestured to a seat on the far wall, and Tom sat down enjoying every minute of my misfortune.

Jack’s grip changed, as he firmly thrust my head forward, my neck ached at being pushed so hard forward, my chin nestled into my chest. I felt the clippers sliding up the back of my head, up to and over the crown. Each pass was followed by another bundle of two inch hairs dropping down onto my bare torso, sticking to my sweaty skin, itchy as hell.

I didn’t have to suffer the position long, my head was soon leaning to the left as the clippers glided around my right ear. Jack blew hard around my ear, causing loose hairs to dislodge and fall onto my chest. Jack moved around and I leant the other way.

Reluctantly he turned the clippers off, and ran his hands over my now grainy scalp, but he obviously found some hairs he’d missed as the clippers came back on, and slowly dragged across my scalp once more, pass after pass until he was satisfied every hair had been cut.

I’d sat down on the chair with a modest head of hair, maybe two inches in length around the back, perhaps longer over my ears and eyes. From the cuttings on my chest I tried to imagine how short he had buzzed me, half and inch, maybe a quarter, surely not an eighth of an inch.

As the buzzing of the clippers died away, I became desperate to find a mirror. Jack rubbed my head again, and I was struck by the coarseness.

‘I bet that feels an awful lot better, don't it lad.’ said Jack, clearly impressed with his work. He somehow managed to sound like he’d done me a favour.

His grip lifted, and I was allowed to brush away the loose hairs onto the floor, though I was sure quite a few were still sticking to my back. Rubbing my head, I was warming to the feel of my head.

Politely I thanked Jack for my haircut. I’m not sure why, I think he’d enjoyed giving it me more than I had in receiving it, but he was a big guy, with a temper. Something changed between us in that moment, he looked at me proudly, and wrapped him arm tightly around me.

‘Any time son’ he muttered.

My brother stood up too, and we both made for the door, I knew I was in for some serious ribbing, but hey it was only hair, and anyway I had always wondered what it would be like to have short hair. He’d kind of done me a favour.

‘Where are you too going’ Jack’s words carrying an authoritative air. We both froze. ‘Tom, come on get yourself in that chair, at once.’

‘But...I’ve had a haircut today, I did what you said.’ he protested.

‘Call that a haircut! Pull the other one, I told you to get a decent haircut. Let a proper barber get near your hair, not some airy fairy women. Sit!’ he exploded.

I took the seat on the far wall, but Tom wasn’t so smart, he tried to run, but Jack was no fool, and grabbed him just in time, gripping him tightly by the hair, he led him to the makeshift barbers chair. Pushing him roughly down into the chair, he finally let go of Tom, who was looking desperately at me for help, terrified.

Tom sat back, and I watched as Jack clipped away the long hair. He seemed rougher than he had been with me, but didn’t seem to notice the tears in my brother’s eyes.

Freshly shorn, the clippers were returned to the table, and Jack stood back proudly, appearing to be after some thanks for liberating another young lad from the evils of hair. Tom was in no mood to thank him, and this seemed to irritate Jack.

‘Stay there.’ he snapped.

He returned moments later clutching his razor and shaving cream. Tom was staring out of the window, so didn’t notice, until Jack began massaging the shaving gel into a mass of white cream over his head. The terror returned to Tom’s face, I was scared for him.

Mum arrived back from home and popped out on to the porch to say hi, she saw me first and was clearly impressed with my new look. She turned to see Tim, freshly lathered and joked ‘Wow, that’ll keep you cool this summer!’ and walked away.

Tom was defeated, she wasn’t going to intervene. He lifted his head, and allowed Jack to shave away the remaining stubble, until Jack was satisfied Tom’s head was smooth.

Though at the time Tom would never have believed me he looked great. My brotherly instincts took over, and I asked Jack if he’d shave my head too, he readily agreed and our bond started to grow.

I loved the sensation of the cool gel spread over my head, it loved the feeling of the razor scraping over my stubbled head, I loved the gentle rasping sound as the razor smoothed my scalp. I loved the feel of my hands on my naked head.

Too soon it was over. We got up to go, but Jack had different ideas. I had really appreciated the fact that Jack had cared enough to give us both a haircut, Tom too was also warming to his look. Jack surprised us both as he took the chair, demanding that Tom use the clippers on him, and later I got to shave him smooth. That afternoon we finally bonded, all lads together. Things were going to be all right now.

---