Chet's bet -- top and tail on the table by Manny

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This is a sequel to "Chet Inspires a Makeover"

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I was beginning a DIY project and decided to ask Chet for advice on stripping off varnish. Walking down the old main street brought back memories of my first visit to both Chet’s hardware store and Al’s barber shop. The two commercial establishments were across the street from each other and charmingly frozen in time. I found the owners very personable, salt-of-the-earth men.

During my first visit, it had been Chet’s amazing deep-pile flattop that had inspired me, on the spur of the moment, to ditch my businessman’s coif and go radically short. He recommended Al, and minutes later I was under the pristine white cape watching clumps of my thick dark hair fall to the cape. Al was quick and confident with the clippers.

The makeover was exciting, but I left the barber shop that day feeling totally queasy about my new look -- especially about how my work colleagues would react to the horseshoe flattop.

Even Chet’s eyes bulged with alarm when I popped by the hardware store to show him my new shoe. He told me he’d always resisted Al when the barber suggested taking his plush top down to a minimalist length. Chet liked the showy plush top he sported and dreaded any suggestion of a landing strip or shaved sides

At work, my worst fears were confirmed and magnified. There weren’t just a few quips or taunts, there was full-scale mocking, coupled with raucous laughter, pointing, and a gathered crowd to gawk at my shorn head. My best buddies couldn’t resist running their hands over the smooth skin and tugging at the few remnants of hair, trying to "make them grow back," as they put it.

Needless to say, I was one-and-done with the horseshoe. My hair grew out painfully slow. After a few weeks, I found myself admiring the plush top that took the place of the shoe. I considered having Al trim it and keep it Chet’s length, but then played it safe. Going straight back to the executive coif would give me renewed respect in the office.

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Now, in hot pursuit of varnish stripper, I pushed the door to the hardware store open. The tinkling of the bell brought Chet from the back storage area into the display area.

"Long time, no see," he called out with a cheerful wave.

"Chet," I stammered, "You got shoed!!"

I couldn’t believe it! It was brutally short. 98% shiny skin -- the remainder forming a skimpy tiara of spikes.

His face reddened at my spontaneous reaction.

"Did I ever," he muttered, hardly concealing his unease that bordered on bitterness.

Then he touched his smooth scalp and asked the inevitable, "Well, what do you think?"

I wasn’t going to josh him.

"Geez, how did you ever give into Al’s pressure? I thought that plush, boxy top was sacrosanct," I commented.

"You remember Tony, my parttime assistant?" Chet asked.

"Yeah, the one with the ponytail?" I asked.

"More like the one who USED to have a ponytail," Chet remarked before calling Tony from the back storage area.

Tony ambled in and my mouth dropped open. He was sporting an incredible, plush flattop -- just like Chet’s "before" look.

"Turn around, Tony," Chet instructed. "See, no more tail!"

"OMG! But it looks fantastic. Some donation to wigs for kids?" I asked.

"Nope, more like a risky bet at our weekly card game with Al and Cal," Chet explained.

Then, Chet told the whole story: "We’d been on a winning streak all night, Tony and me, when there was a reversal of fortune; we bet and lost everything -- $100! Normally, the tenth round would have been the end of the evening, but I was desperate to play just one more. After a quick consultation, Tony and I said we’d each put in a $50 IOU for a final round. Winner takes it all. Cal and Al countered with, ‘Put your top and tail on the table!’ It took a minute for the penny to drop. If we won, we’d get the $100 back. If they won, they’d keep the cash and we’d be under their capes, waiting for the clippers to strike and strip me of my plush top and Tony of his long tail. Before I could respond, Tony accepted the offer. I was aghast! But, winning vibes were brimming inside me, so I went along with it."

"Well, I see that lady luck was not on your side," I quipped.

"No, indeed! And, the next day, bright and early, Mr. Oster was sailing tightly up the back of my head and down through the center of my pampered top!" Chet said.

"Were you bitter, or resigned?" I asked.

"More like curious," Chet replied. "In a way, I knew that one day it would happen to me. Al’s a great guy -- it was time he had his thrill. And, did he ever! As to me, well, I enjoyed the feel of the razor on my scalp, but, this shoe...."

"What about you, Tony?" I asked.

"I didn’t mind. Hey, it was a free haircut," he laughed. "Always knew the tail would come off one day. Cal held it up high like a hunting trophy and posed for a few pix of his triumph. I was always a secret admirer of Chet’s plush top. Just glad I didn’t end up with a shoe!"

"So, is your shoe a keeper, Chet?" I asked.

"Hell, no!" he replied. "I hate it. It should grow out in a few weeks. You grew your shoe out asap, right? And, now, look at you -- back to that tired business cut."

"Very true," I replied. "But, I’m with Tony. I think a plush top is where I want to be. Yours was amazing."

"Well, Al is right across the street with clippers on standby," Chet quipped, his eyes sparkling. "Why don’t you pop on over?"

My stomach churned. It was a good question.

Before I knew it, I had blurted out, "I think I will. Maybe this time the business cut will be retired for good."

After picking up a varnish stripper, I crossed the street with an excited nervousness and pushed the door of Al’s Barber Shop open before I lost my courage.

Cal had a client, but Al was ready to tackle my mane with the Oster’s

"It’s been a while," the barber said, smiling broadly while patting the leather upholstery and inviting me to take a seat.

As I eased into the chair, I murmured, "A long while."

Al fastened the large white cape about my neck and asked the inevitable, "So, what'll it be today?"

I took a deep breath and then spit it out, "A flattop -- deep pile like the one you just gave Tony from the hardware shop."

"Ah, so you’ve seen the changes over there," Al laughed. "Why not a shoe like Chet’s sporting?!"

"No, no," I said quickly. "No shoe for me. I tried that before and didn’t like it."

"You’re just like Chet!" Al laughed. "I thought he was going to start weeping when I pushed the #0000 blade through his pampered, fussy top! The kid was way more cool about the big chop when Cal took off his tail."

"I heard about the bet -- Lady Luck abandoned them and Mr. Oster swept in!" I laughed.

"That’s right," Al grinned. "Lady Luck was on MY side! I’ve been suggesting that Chet let me take down that top for over a decade. It took a game of cards to make it happen."

Al worked a brush through my hair.

"Should I leave some length on the sides, like a #2 taper, or something shorter? My preference is to zero the sides up all the way," he said.

My heart beat wildly, "How about a zero at the nape and around the ears, possibly halfway up, but some length higher up the back and sides?"

"Got it!" Al replied, seemingly satisfied at the compromise.

In an instant, the barber had my head cocked to the side, and I watched him take the clippers right up through my sideburn and peel off a chunk of hair very close to the scalp all the way through the temple.

A large shank of hair fell off. I watched with apprehension as the cut wad came to rest on my shoulder momentarily before sliding down the cape into my lap. My stomach churned. My transformation had begun. And, a lot more hair would come off before the cape came off.

"I'll have this shag clipped off tight and tidy before I start taking down the top," Al commented.

Suddenly, however, with a comb he scooped up my thick forelock.

"But, let’s get rid of this nuisance, first," Al chirped as he held the clippers in a 'ready to strike' pose.

Instantly, the clippers flew across the top of the comb, sending most of my bangs to the cape.

Even though I knew it was coming, I felt stunned as I witnesses my executive look taking a big hit. I was on my way to a flattop! The clump of hair that lay lifeless on my chest was like a billboard announcing, "No Turning Back!"

Moments later, my stomach was aflutter with excitement.

I watched in total awe and some dread as the barber clipped away the bulk of my executive hairstyle. Shorn hair rained down in torrents to the cape. The clippers moved tightly up my scalp, peeling away the soft fluff. I was mesmerized by the transformation and couldn’t take my eyes off the mirror. Every move Al made with his cutting instruments took me further from my old self and closer to the new look which I hoped to make permanent.

After finishing the sides and back, Al used the clipper-over-comb technique on top to remove much of the length. No strand on my head was longer than an inch.

The barber's skills were put fully to the test when it came to flattening out the tufts that remained on top. After a few blasts with the blow dryer to get the tufts totally erect, Al used a steady hand to clip the pile down to a precisely level plane. Over and over, he ran the clippers, carefully taking down the length.

Once my flattop was fully formed, Al paused and asked, "How is this length? Perhaps take it down a little shorter? Long flattops are very difficult to keep groomed and in place."

I loved what I saw.

"That’s perfect, just the way I want it," I said, feeling a bit nervous because Al seemed very skeptical.

"If you want this length, you’ll have to visit me more frequently," Al warned. "A shorter cut would be easier to maintain."

"Really?" I muttered, my heart pounding, suddenly softening and inexplicably feeling a bit open to something shorter.

"I'd suggest lather shaving the sides all the way up to the crown," he suggested. "And, on top, I'm partial to a landing strip. Perhaps just a hint of a landing strip. A gentle grazing of the top of your head with the clippers."

My heart pulsated wildly. Oh, to feel the clippers grazing the top of my head, and the razor scraping the stubble away!

The barber continued his sales pitch, "The only thing I like better than carving a landing strip is to shoe a handsome man like you! When one sees a virile man with a well-cut horseshoe flattop, it's a visual treat. Takes guts and good looks to pull it off. You have both, I think!"

I broke into a cold sweat, realizing I was beginning to succumb to Al’s flattery. I should stop while I was ahead!

"For today, I think the way you have it is short enough," I noted nervously

My mind wandered, imaging how I'd feel if I once again left the shop with a horseshoe flattop. This time, I would not let the taunts and mocking in the office affect me. I would be bold and laugh back in their faces! Could I do it? It would be a way to redeem myself from the first humiliation. I imagined myself boldly proclaiming the shoe was keeper as I strut away from the gawking group!

"Then just a little lather and clean-up around the ears and you'll be finished," Al said, resigned to not taking me any shorter.

He was giving up on the shoe, and I felt disappointed. I had been so close to agreeing. I decided to keep that option alive.

"Well, if you're going to use lather, go ahead and skin the sides and back all the way to the crown," I said with my heart beating wildly as I gave the instruction.

The barber smiled. "What about the landing strip? You want to rethink the top as well. It's quite long up here," he noted, grasping at my erect, plush top.

My heart pounded. "No landing strip today. Maybe in the future. But, why not take the length down shorter. You said it would be more manageable with the shorter length, right?"

In an instant, Al boldly plunged the clippers right down the middle of my plush top, taking off half the length! It was going to be ultra short!!

"Ah, yes, this is much better," the barber murmured as he took my top down incredibly short.

Then, I watched him skin my sides ever so carefully. His gentle strokes with the razor felt marvelous.

My thoughts wandered back to the office. Why not blow them away and arrive feeling confident and proud with a shoe?

"Can you show me how it looks in back?" I asked the barber.

The barber held up the mirror. "What do you think?"

"I was thinking about the landing strip," I said nervously.

The barber picked up the clippers and snapped them on. "Son, you are ready to be shoed. I sense it in my bones!"

I gulped, "I think I am."

The words popped out of my mouth; I felt overcome with excitement and dread.

The clippers were all over me in a flash. The metal teeth cutting off my hair at the scalp down the top of my head jolted me back into reality. I was getting shoed!

I watched with anxious resignation as the barber stripped virtually all of my hair off, save the slightest rim around the crown.

The end of my transformation drew near as the barber began to massage a thick dollop of lather into my scalp, including on top, when he would scrape away all remnants of my executive cut.

"So, got any plans for the weekend?" Al asked nonchalantly as barbers are apt to do with mundane chit-chat. "Why not join us for cards on Friday night?"

I smiled.

"I think I’d like that," I replied. "I will."

Al took a warm moist towel to clean off the remains of lather and then splashed a stinging dose of witch hazel on the shaved scalped.

I yelped and jolted in the chair.

"Love to do that," Al laughed.

Off came the cape and we both gazed at the vast amount of cut hair on the floor.

"You won’t be seeing anything like that again," I said pointing at the piles of cut hair.

"You can bet your bottom dollar -- or last lock -- on that!" Al laughed.

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