Dad shouldn't have heard that. by Som

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I grew up in the 70s. My name is Alex and my best friend and classmate is Mike. We were like twins. We did a lot of things together, we often dressed the same. We also went to a modern barbershop together for a small haircut. Our hair was about the same length - I had dark brown hair and Mike had black.
Our hair covered our ears, our bangs were usually long to the tip of our noses, and at the back of our heads our hair was almost shoulder-length. From about 12 years old (1974), we both found that we were attracted to seeing boys who had fresh short haircuts. We started riding our bikes along a route where we went past the nearest 3 old-fashioned barbershops: Matthews Barbershop, Ricardo's Barbershop or Pablo Barbershop. We watched to see if there were any boys getting haircuts and then watched from a distance when the haircuts would leave the barbershop. We got on our bikes and rode slowly behind the boys getting haircuts to get a good look at their short haircuts. Then we started talking about their haircuts and laughing at how ridiculous they looked without long hair. Of course, we also liked our classmates who had strict parents and forced them to go to one of the old-fashioned barbershops. At first we would make fun of these boys after every visit to the old-fashioned barbershop for a few days, later we would tease them by running our hands over the nape of their freshly cut hair. We started to like it and also the teasing of our hands running over the smooth nape of their neck or a little stubble. At home, we would always discuss our experiences, tease each other in the crotch and laugh about it.
We were already 13 years old, we were physically fit boys and some of our classmates were afraid of us. Here we caught the boys with freshly cut hair on the way home from school, we had to bend over, we teased our palms on their shaved nape for a while and then we got a slap on the shaved part of the nape and neck with an open palm. Some boys with freshly short haircuts tried to run away from us on the way home from school to avoid the humiliation that awaited them from us, but most of the time we caught them and we would enjoy their freshly cut nape.
This is how we humiliated our classmates from the same year or even a little younger for several months. We always intimidated them, if they said anything at home or at school, they would get a big fight.

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We were only a few months away from our 14th birthdays, me 2 months and Mike 4 months. It was 1976. It was a Friday, Mike and I were riding our bikes along our usual route to watch boys get their haircuts in old-fashioned barbershops. As we approached Matthews barbershop, we saw our classmate Issack with his 2-year-younger brother Filip and their father going to the barbershop. We were very happy and just waited for the doors to open and Issack with his brother and father to come out of the barbershop. They did not disappoint us, their haircuts were traditionally short. When Issack saw us, it was clear that he was afraid of our meeting on Monday at school. We, on the other hand, were very happy about it and sent him big smiles.
We went to my house. No one was home, so we started discussing Issack and Filip, their hairstyles and were looking forward to catching them both on Monday on the way home from school. We laughed and teased them all the while. We were looking forward to it like little children looking forward to chocolate. I suggested that we tease Issack and Filip and slap their shaved heads with our palms until they begged us to stop or until they cried or our palms hurt.
We were so absorbed in our plans to meet the boys with their haircuts on Monday that we didn't hear my father come home. He must have heard a lot. When he interrupted us, he was very upset and shouted at us. He started questioning us. Who are Issack and Filip? How old are they? How do we know them? Where do they live? Why do we want to bully them on Monday?
We resisted for a long time, but finally we confessed everything. When Dad found out that we wanted to bully them, because they were in the old-fashioned Matthews barbershop today, that they were weaker than us and were afraid of us, he moved away for a while. After a few minutes, he came back to the room with us. Mike wanted to go home, but my dad held him back. Just stay. I called your dad and he is also very disappointed. Now you both get dressed and we will go home to Issack. There you will apologize to the boys for making fun of them until now and promise them that it will never happen again. And believe me, Mike and Dad will take care of that too.
It was very embarrassing for us when we had to apologize to such weak boys and promise them that we will not laugh at them or hit them on the shaved part of their neck and the back of their head.
Dad asked them how often they went to Matthews barbershop. Issack replied, always on Fridays after the 15th of the month. Dad smiled and thanked me.
We were both glad that it ended with some kind of apology and promise. We wanted to go home, but Dad said we were going to see Matthews Barber Shop. What? We both screamed at the same time. Then we suggested that we go to Ricardo's Barber Shop, that it was closer and the barber was younger than Mr. Matthews and his haircuts were not that short. Dad said he didn't want to hear any objections or crying and we were going to Matthews Barber Shop.
After less than half an hour of walking, we arrived at Matthews Barber Shop. We didn't want to enter the barber shop but Dad pushed us in. The barber was an old, gray-haired gentleman with short hair in a white coat. The barber shop looked very old-fashioned, old chairs, old furniture, old pictures, dim lighting ....everything old, not like in a modern barber shop.
We knew that we would lose our hair today and there was no way we would avoid getting a haircut. There were several older men in the barbershop. And there were also 4 boys. Two of them were probably brothers, I estimated the older one to be 11 and the younger one to be 8. There was also a little boy there, probably 7 years old. There was also a boy I knew from school who was a year younger than Mike and me. We sat down on the waiting chairs. Mike and I sat quietly, we didn’t talk or laugh. When the boy from school saw us, he was surprised that my father and I had come to Matthews Barbershop. When the barber cut the 7-year-old boy, who had a haircut very similar to Issack and Filip, I started begging my father not to cut us so much and leave us with longer hair. My father replied that we had nothing to worry about. As Mike and I were used to, we drew lots to see which of us would sit in the chair first. I lost and it was clear that I would be the first to get a haircut. All 4 boys left the barbershop with very similar haircuts.
While we were waiting for our turn, other older men entered the barbershop. What I didn't expect was that my classmate Rey also entered the barbershop. My blood froze in my veins. He was one of the boys we used to make fun of and get slapped on the neck and shaved part of the head.
When the barber called out, which girl would go first for her haircut? There was laughter in the barbershop. I stood up and walked with shaking legs to the barber's chair. It was old-fashioned, but soft and comfortable.
The barber wrapped me in a sheet. He tied it tightly around my neck. Then he said: Shall we give him a classic boy's haircut? I called out, not too short hair, please. The barber said, you sit down and don't move, I asked my father. My father said, yes, boyish. In the mirror I saw how I blushed, Mike opened his mouth in amazement. The only one who was happy about this was my classmate Rey. He moved to another waiting chair so he could get a good view of my haircut.
The barber took a pair of heavy electric scissors from the counter. I noticed that the blades were marked #3. He tilted my head to the side, placed the scissors under my hair on my cheekbone. When he lowered them, I flinched in fear. The barber raised his voice and told me to sit still. After a moment, I saw a hairless ear, and by the time the barber moved to the other side of my head, I could see that one side had been cut about 3/8 of an inch. By then, my head was pressed against my chest, and the barber continued to cut the back of my head without stopping, and when he tilted my head back, he placed the blades of the scissors under the long bangs on my forehead and cut the entire top of my head.
The barber turned off the scissors and cleaned them. Then he cleaned the cut hair off the sheet. In the mirror I saw the small head of a frightened boy. The barber was already pushing my head to the side. He placed the blades of another pair of scissors on my temple bone and ran them over my ear. He continued cutting, bending my ear and gradually cutting off the 3/8 inch short hair. He did the same on the other side of my head. I had a 2 inch arch above the tips of my ears with very little stubble. The barber tilted my head forward and cut part of the back of my head from my neck towards the crown of my head. Finally he turned off the electric scissors. He began to make a gradual transition from minimal stubble to the longest hair which was about 3/8 inch on the crown of my head. The barber combed the hair on the crown of my head towards my forehead and cut my bangs straight down to more than 2 inches above my eyebrows. I could see almost my entire forehead without hair.
The worst part of the cutting followed. The barber made a white foam and applied it to the small stubble on the sides of my head and the back of my head. Then he started scraping it off with a razor. When he was done, he wiped my head with a towel. He put some oil on my head with a horrible smell. The white shaved part of my head was shiny and shining like the sun. The humiliation of the barber was that before I left his barber's chair, Mr. Matthews stood behind me with a small mirror and showed me the back of my head. I had shaved more than 7 inches from the collar of my shirt and then the hair gradually lengthened to the back of my head.
I sat down in the waiting chair and Mike took my place in the barber's chair. His haircut was just like mine. Suddenly someone patted the shaved part of the back of my head. It was Rey. Like a sheared sheep? Do you like that?
When Mike got his haircut, he looked like a scared little boy. If I didn't know who it was, I would tilt my head forward and he would pat the back of his head.

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From Matthews Barbershop we went straight to Mike's house. His father was disappointed with our behavior. He told us to forget about long hair. To this my father remarked that Issack and Filip regularly go to Matthews Barbershop every Friday after the 15th of the month. My father also said that there were 2 other boys in the barbershop who knew us from school. We also hit both of them on the shaved nape. One of them goes to Matthews Barbershop for a haircut every 5-6 weeks and the other every 3 weeks. Now we could both tease our own palms on our own shaved heads for a few days.

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My classmate Rey managed to go around all the boys in the class on Friday to tell them that he had seen Mike and I getting our haircuts at Matthews Barbershop. By Saturday evening, all the boys in the class were at our door asking if I was going to play football. But that was just an excuse, they all wanted to see if it was true that I had gotten a drastic haircut at Matthews Barbershop. Mike experienced the same thing. They wanted to see him too so they could laugh in his face.

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On Monday we experienced hell. Everyone laughed at us. Mike and I said to each other: we have to endure it for a few days and then our hair will gradually grow back.
But what we didn't expect was that on the way home from school we were caught by a group of about 12 boys, whom we always teased and hit on the back of our heads with our palms after getting a haircut in old-fashioned barbershops. First they bent Mike's head forward. I wanted to run away but they caught me and held me. Each of the boys slapped Mike on the back of his head several times. When they finished, his whole neck and the shaved back of his head were red. Then they bent my head forward and I started to get the first blows too. All I could hear was Slap, slap, slap....... When I counted 40 of them, I stopped counting and waited for this humiliation to end.
Dad was right when he said we will never again make fun of Issack and Filip and the other boys with their hair cut or hit them on their shaved necks and napes. We know how humiliating it is when parents decide the fate of their son's hair.
I would be happy if you write comments on my story. Thank you

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