Campaign detour through the barber shop by Manny

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Shout-out to Linus for his description of the barbers.

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The press conference had gone extremely well for Harrison Michaels and his re-election campaign until nearly the end.

"Yes, the young lady in the red dress," Harrison said pointing to an attractive woman near the back of the room. "You have the last question."

"Thank you, Rep. Michaels. Your opponent has commented that the only good thing he can say about you is that you have great hair," she commented amid a ripple of chuckles.

Harrison grinned and blushed, squelching his urge to smooth back his golden helmet of thick, glistening locks that were perfectly coiffed and sprayed into place. Golden streaks contrasted with his salon-acquired tan, which, in turn, made his capped white teeth dazzle even more brightly.

"Well, he has a keen eye for nice hair," Harrison quipped with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"So, sir, my question is, are those blond highlights natural or are they the result of a pricey trip to a high-end salon?" the reporter asked.

Harrison’s blush intensified to embarrassment and he stifled a grimace.

"That really has nothing to do with the campaign," the embarrassed candidate snapped before forcing a smile.

"I think it does," the reporter insisted. "You’re running on the need for transparency. And, if you can’t be honest about your hair -- such a nice coif that’s been praised by your opponent -- how can we expect you to be transparent in your duties as our representative?"

"I’m not going to dignify that question with a response," Harrison huffed as he exited the stage in a hurry.

The reporter called out, "Is it true that you stiffed the beautician who worked so hard to give you those perfect, albeit fake, highlights? That you told her the salon charged too much and that the compliment you gave her should make up for no tip?!"

Everyone in the room gasped at the accusation.

Harrison’s campaign manager rushed to the mic to try to spin the catastrophe.

"We won’t respond to baseless accusations," Curry told the reporters. "Rep. Michaels is an honest, generous public servant, known for his thrift with your tax dollars and with his own resources."

"But why won’t he answer a simple question about his hair?" the reporter in the red dress shot back.

"The next time Rep. Michaels visits the barber shop, we will send you an invitation to observe, since you seem to be so interested in his hair," Curry told the reporter in what was meant to be a sarcastic retort.

"Invite us all!" a different reporter called out.

"That mop is way overdue for a date with the clippers," shouted another.

"My brother is a barber. Bring Rep. Michaels to the East Main Barber Shop tomorrow, and my brother will he gets the kind of no-nonsense haircut that will allow him to focus on his district rather than his pretty boy mane!" remarked a reporter who sported a boxy flattop.

Curry quickly realized that the matter of his boss’ hair was not going to be quickly brushed aside.

His mind raced. He’d always been rather jealous of that thick, blond mane...pampered locks that fed his vanity. He could easily force the matter! Oh, to have his boss bowing his head before a huge set of hungry electric hair clippers at a traditional barber shop!

Suddenly, Curry felt his groin swelling at the idea of putting Harrison’s mane on the chopping block! The proud politician made to watch an old geezer strip off his shimmering tresses. Mounds of golden clumps piling up on the cape!

"Fine! Tomorrow at 10 a.m. Rep. Michael’s will be getting his hair cut at the East Main Barber Shop. I know he wouldn’t want to pass up a free haircut. All those who don’t have anything better to do, who don’t have real news to cover, are welcome to witness the event. Photography will be encouraged. Any television crews interested? You’ll see that Harrison is, at heart, just a regular Joe Blow. He is NOT the preening pretty boy that all these insinuations seem to suggest," Curry said in a firm, resolute tone.

With that, Curry hustled from the stage to huddle in the back with Harrison. Before telling him about the barber shop visit, Curry wanted to know whether Harrison had, in fact, stiffed the beautician who highlighted his locks. If the accusation were true, Curry would have NO problem announcing Harrison’s haircut at the barber shop. If it wasn’t true, well, then he would have to find a way to spin the situation….

"Did you hear the accusation as you left?" Curry asked Harrison. "Tell me it’s not true!"

Harrison got a sick look on his face.

"It IS true," Harrison gulped. "Oh, why didn’t I toss that tart a $20? Especially when she threatened to report me to the press?!"

"Did you hear what I agreed you’d do in an effort to patch things up. The journalists were baying for your scalp!" Curry exclaimed.

Harrison shook his head ‘no’ with a look of nausea on his face.

"Tomorrow, at 10 a.m. you’ll be getting your hair cut at the East Main Barber Shop. And, the length will be barber’s choice. A no-nonsense, short crop. You’re going to prove to that vicious lot that you’re just a regular Joe Blow -- not some preening pretty boy obsessed with girly hair!"

"Barber’s choice?" croaked Harrison.

"Highlights! Really, Harrison!" Curry scolded. "And to stiff that poor girl?! You deserved to be shaved bald! Cueball bald!"

Harrison coddled his doomed locks.

"I paid a fortune for the highlights," he moaned.

"Well, tomorrow, that investment is going to be clipped off, swept up and dumped into the trash!" Curry cackled with undisguised glee. "No more GQ cover spreads for the dashing U.S. representative with Robert Redford looks and locks!"

"Just as long as I don’t end up looking like GI Joe," Harrison whimpered.

"Well," Curry hemmed, "The reporter who offered up his brother’s barbering skills was sporting a flattop…."

"A flattop?!" Harrison gasped. "This is all a horrible nightmare. And, the press conference had been going so well. Why did you allow one last question? One last nightmare question?!"

"Don’t blame me, pretty boy!" Curry snapped back. "Why did you have to get sissy highlights and then stiff the cosmetologist? I hope you do end up with a flattop!"

For the rest of the day, Harrison moped about the hotel where they were staying and was weepy. He kept sneaking looks in the mirror and pawing at his hair, measuring the length of his copious forelock. It was at least six inches long, resplendent with natural-looking highlights.

The next morning, Curry rapped insistently on Harrison’s hotel room door.

The unhappy representative slunk out with a grim look of dread on his face. His locks were freshly washed and sprayed into place.

"Ready for your transformation? Anxious about the new look?" Curry chirped, enjoying his boss’ discomfort.

"I don’t have to do this, you know," Harrison whimpered.

"Sure, fink out, and your campaign is over -- your political career as well," Curry laughed. "You are too ambitious for that! Think of it this way...you might like a short, military crop. That long forelock chopped off and replaced by a tidy flattop!"

"Ha, ha, very funny," Harrison responded in a sardonic tone, laced with sarcasm. "Maybe you ought to get a flattop yourself since you’re so upbeat about them."

Curry gulped and zipped his lip. That was NOT a direction he wanted the conversation to be going in.

"Abandon the fancy wardrobe and jive with the blue-collar crowd in the barber shop, Harrison," Curry chided. "You might even enjoy a free cup of Folger’s brew instead of your usual iced caramel macchiato pushed over the counter by some sexy barista who’s drooling over your pert locks."

As they neared the barber shop, they could see a crowd of reporters, as well as a TV film crew!

"Looks like this transformation is going to be well documented," Curry giggled. "How are you going to play it?"

Harrison took a deep breath, as if steeling his nerves.

"Oh, I’ll put on a brave face and say I enjoy new experiences," Harrison replied. "I’ll flash a huge smile, shake hands, put in a plug for myself. You know...make the most of it."

"And if they ask about your treatment of the beautician?" Curry pressed.

"Admit that I was wrong, that there was no excuse for that, and that I will make amends as soon as possible. Hardworking people deserve to be treated fairly, that'll be my clear message," Harrison replied.

"Whoa, nice words! I might even vote for you!" Curry laughed.

Then, he took the liberty, to reach over and stroke Harrison’s locks briefly.

"It’ll grow back, if you miss it," he said tenderly.

"Well, perhaps I won’t want it growing back. I got the highlights because I noticed some significant graying," Harrison admitted. "It came on suddenly. Maybe clipped short will be the solution."

With that, Harrison threw open the door of the rental car, stepped into the gaggle of reporters, and put on a show of confidence and contrition. He was amazingly persuasive -- a consummate politician!

"Before I answer any questions," Harrison announced, holding up his hands to quiet the reporters, "I want to make a statement. The simple fact is that I acted intolerably with the beautician who did such a fine job on my hair. I am deeply ashamed of my behavior and I humbly apologize. To make amends, I am going to deliver her this $100 bill right after I get home."

He took a Ben Franklin out of his wallet and flashed it about.

Then, he continued, "But, for the present, I’m looking forward to patronizing this amazing barber shop. Shops like the East Main Barber Shop are at the heart of America. Small, employee-owned establishments where communities gather. A little boy’s first haircut, a groom getting trimmed for his big day, seniors gathering to socialize and exchange news. I’m looking forward to participating in this fine American tradition. Barbers are among the first people military personnel encounter at boot camp. And, in the fight against cancer, how many have not donated their services to raise money for St. Baldrick’s, Brave the Shave, and so many other worthy fundraising campaigns?"

The crowd spontaneously broke into applause.

Harrison had convincingly turned a skeptical crowd around and charmed his critics. The bombshell question at the press conference had forced him into the situation -- and he was determined to make the most of it.

Pointing at the reporter who sported the flattop, Harrison asked, "My friend, does your brother cut your hair? If so, I hope I leave here today with an immaculate flattop, just like yours!"

The reporter flashed Harrison a thumbs up and replied, "My brother Gary’s your man!"

As the reporter escorted him into the shop, Harrison pointed at Curry and loudly proclaimed, "My campaign manager wants a flattop too!"

Curry’s face reddened. He tried to signal disagreement, but the reporters herded him inside, tussling his fussy little businesscut and declaring a flattop would suit him fine!

Both men were instantly thrust toward the awaiting barber chairs.

Dave’s chair was closer to the door. He was tall and muscular, his arms fully filling out the sleeves of his white barber tunic. His medium brown hair was clipped brutally short, a blistering Marine High and Tight. The top couldn’t have been more than 1/4 inch, and the back and sides were gleaming tanned skin -- a sure sign he never let the scalp get covered with hair. His face was clean shaven, and showed off a chiseled square jawline. His thick thighs, round ass, and ample package filled out a pair of brown Carhartt work pants. A worn pair of combat boots completed his no nonsense look. His work station was very organized and orderly, except for the significant heaps of hair surrounding his barber chair. It appeared that he only swept up at the end of the day. He would kick the various clumps of hair around the chair to avoid slipping on the shorn locks.

The heap of hair around Dave’s chair was in contrast to Gary’s barber chair. Gary clearly swept up between cuts. The broom was slightly closer to his station than Dave’s. Gary was only a few months younger than Dave. His tight taper was effortlessly parted on the side. No skin but nothing over 1.5 inches anywhere on his head. He wore a full push broom mustache that seemed to complete his friendly face. He too wore a classic white barber tunic, but his seemed to hang off his lean body. A pair of pleated charcoal trousers matched with comfortable dress shoes.

Gary worked a little slower but was not afraid to go short if that’s what the client wanted. He seemed to be a little more comfortable with scissor work, whereas his partner Dave preferred a clipper over comb technique. The two barbers never competed for clients, in fact it was common for a local to let either one of them cut their hair. Only the pretty boys ordered to the barbershop preferred Gary, and avoided Dave’s administrations. However, nobody left that shop with any real length, and the towns male population reflected that. Everyone seemed impeccably groomed and barbered -- any long shaggy hair obviously belonged an out-of-towner.

"These two men want flattops," the reporters announced to the waiting barbers.

Harrison was thrilled that Curry -- who had set up the barber shop visit -- was getting roped in and would shed a lot of hair, as well.

"It’s like I’ve come home," Harrison announced as he eased into the chair which face away from the mirror toward the cameras. "Last time I sat in a barber’s chair, I was eight years old!"

"Looks like you’ve been a confirmed salon-junkie since then," Gary quipped. "Look at all this hair!"

He began plying a brush through the thick blond locks.

"So, what can we do for you today?" the barber asked, eager to begin transforming the pretty boy in his chair.

"Your brother’s haircut..." Harrison began. "Is that something that would work for me?"

The barber snagged Harrison’s massive forelock with his comb and lifted it away from his mane. Six inches of carefully highlighted hair hung with the enticing allure of a fully ripe pear hanging low on the tree.

The barber reached for his barber shears that were on the Formica counter.

"A flattop is a perfect haircut for any self-respecting man," Gary affirmed.

And with that, he clamped the shears shut on the captive forelock, sending it to the cape.

"Good riddance!" Harrison exclaimed as he watched the lock fall.

As he examined the copious tress in his lap, Harrison wondered whether he was putting on a show for the cameras? Or, did he really mean it?

Meanwhile, in the neighboring chair, Curry squirmed nervously beneath the cape that barber Dave had fastened suffocatingly tight around his neck.

"Flattop for you too, sir?" the barber inquired.

Harrison piped up, answering for his campaign manager, "Yes, and make it short!"

"Oh, not too short," Curry intervened on his own defense.

"Landing strip?" Dave pressed, rhetorically. "Yes, I think so! Perhaps a full-fledged high ‘n tight. The cut I sport is NOT for sissies."

With that, Curry’s head was shoved forward and the clippers came tightly up the back of his head.

"No more businesscut for you!" Dave stated in an authoritative tone. "An H ‘n T is what you need!"

"Yes, it’ll give Curry a little more oomph," Harrison snickered.

Gary continued scissoring off all the length from Harrison’s top. Lush clumps of gold fell in every direction.

Harrison felt himself squirming with delight under the cape. The direct assault on his pretty boy look had unexpectedly excited him!

"Feeling a bit light-headed?" Gary asked with a laugh. "Get ready for phase 2 when the real action happens!"

He reached for the clippers and held the menacing huge machine right in front of the representative’s widened eyes.

"Skinned sides? Or some length?" the barber asked Harrison.

"Leave me some length, like your brother’s flattop. Not too much, though," Harrison requested.

"Boxy on top with beveled edges, then, just like my news-hound brother," Gary concluded before nudging Harrison’s head forward.

Meanwhile, Curry was being subjected to something a lot more forceful and drastic.

"He’s just exchanging one prissy haircut for another," Dave commented caustically, overhearing Harrison’s chatter with his barber. "Well, that’s not going to be the case for you, no sir! For starters, the sides and back are going to pop with a skin-tight ‘whitewall’ effect. A #0000 blade on my Oster’s has taken care of that already! We’re going for a full recon look!"

Curry had resigned himself to his radical transformation. He watched his tidy businesscut fall to the cape, clump by clump from the top, followed by wads of padding from the sides. Not having to look in the mirror was actually a blessing. He wasn’t sure he could keep his lip from quavering or his eyes from welling with tears of regret.

"So, you’re trying to get that phony re-elected," Dave continued. "Whatever for?! Everything about him is fake. The peroxide highlights, the spray-on tan, the piano-key capped teeth. I’d like to see him ball-gagged and hog-tied or in a bondage barber chair that one of my friends has!"

Curry squirmed at his barber’s off-the-cuff remarks. Then, he felt his groin surging.

"And, you have to suck up to him all day," Dave continued. "I wouldn’t want your job for all the cocaine in Colombia!"

"How long have you been a barber?" Curry asked.

"Shoot, forever! Actually, I shaved my little brothers bald when I was just 14 years old. My Mom ran over to the neighbors to do a load of laundry and by the time she got back, I had stripped off their droopy bowlcuts with an amateur barber kit that belonged to my grandfather!" Dave laughed. "She screamed at me and spanked me, but my dad got a kick out of their baldy cuts. He never cared for sissy hair on them. I started practicing with my friends, volunteering to cut their hair. After that, came the military where I again volunteered for barbering duties. Cut hair in more places than I care to remember, including fox holes in Afghanistan."

"And, now, you’re here," Curry sighed.

"And you’re almost bald," Dave laughed. "I’ll make a real man out of you yet!"

With that, he began massaging lather into the sides and back of Curry’s head.

Gary had also stripped all the padding off the sides and back of Harrison’s head with his clippers. He was concentrating on flattening down the top. Slowly, one swipe of the clippers at a time.

"You have very thick hair," Gary commented. "Very dense, but not at all coarse or dull."

"My hair has always been one of my best features," Harrison remarked. "I can’t remember a year in high school when I didn’t receive the ‘best boy’s hair’ superlative in the yearbook. I had a big puffy ‘do like John Stamos playing Uncle Jesse in Full House."

"What a mane that man had," Gary commented. "And, Bob Saget too! It was the era of great 90’s hair."

Gary worked closely on making sure the beveled edges were perfect.

"It’s a little longer than I’d prefer," Gary commented as he began to prep Harrison for the big reveal. "So, if you want it shorter, we can return for a second round."

Slowly, Gary swiveled the chair toward the mirror.

In the process, Harrison got a glimpse of Curry’s minimalist high and tight.

"Whoa! Where’s his hair?" Harrison laughed, pointing at his radically shorn campaign manager.

Dave shot an irritable look at Harrison.

"Well? What do you think?" Gary asked as Harrison gawked at himself in the mirror.

He looked ten years younger without the coiffed executive style. The plush top was amazing -- so tall and showy! It took Harrison a while to drink in the new look. Actually, it was a ton better than he expected. His beautiful hair, even though very short, still glimmering and put on quite a show.

"Can I see the back?" Harrison asked.

Gary held up a mirror that displayed his handiwork clearly.

Harrison found himself unexpectedly squirming beneath the cape with his groin swelling. What would it be like to go shorter?! To have his top taken down and his sides skinned like Curry’s? Just the thought of another round with the Oster's made his baton swell large and throb.

He reached out from under the cape and felt the softness of his silken pelt.

"So, you think shorter?" Harrison asked his barber, needling himself closer toward a second round with the clippers, taking down his top and stripping his sides bare. "How much shorter?"

"Let’s take off half the length on top," the barber remarked casually. "A shorter top will be much easier for you to manage on the campaign trail."

"And the sides and back?" Harrison asked.

Gary swiveled the chair so that it was facing Curry.

"See the way Dave is scraping it all clean?" Gary asked.

"What?!" stammered Harrison, his baton now on full alert beneath the cape. "Shaved all the way up with just a short patch on top?! You weren’t thinking about a landing strip or anything radical like that, were you?"

Silently, Gary swiveled the chair away from the mirror.

"I think I know exactly what you want, sir," the barber remarked cryptically.

Gary seized the clippers and brought them to life. With a determined thrust, he plowed the chattering teeth into the plush, carefully crafted top, and grazed the top of Harrison’s head. Then he came in for a second swipe and unleashed on widening the landing strip dramatically.

The caped client jolted in his chair.

"Landing strip!" Gary announced. "A big, heck of a landing strip! That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?"

"Yes," Harrison whimpered.

"Jealous of your friend’s new H ‘n T, weren’t you?" Gary pressed.

"Yes," Harrison whimpered again.

"Well, you two leave here today looking like twins!" Gary announced.

Harrison sat still and submissive to Gary’s clippers. The showy plush top was quickly removed and a new, minimalist look was phased in.

"I can cut a meaner recon than my pal Dave," Gary chirped.

Unleashed, Gary spared no mercy on the scant remains of Harrison’s showy hair. Most of it was coming off, shaved down to the scalp. Shorter and shorter and shorter the hair was cut. Even Curry was shocked by what was happening to his boss.

Harrison’s only concern was that his private excitement might somehow be revealed with the cameras clicking and whirling away. He kept wondering how things might calm down to become unnoticeable before the cape was pulled off and he descended from the big, fancy barber chair. And, then there was the matter of his hair...or the lack of it. He couldn’t wait to see his shorn head. Harrison had psyched himself into thinking ‘less is more’ -- it was good to be freed of demanding, exhausting hair and all the care it needed.

The chair was whirled about to face the mirror. Harrison was made to come to terms with the new him!

His mouth fell open. Then man in the mirror was unrecognizable.

"This is what you wanted!" Gary announced to the whole shop.

"It certainly is…" Harrison whimpered. "That, and your vote, Gary, is what I wanted."

"Shoot! Of course," Gary replied. "You’re the only candidate with an awesome high and tight haircut!"

"And, a damn fine one at that," Dave conceded. "You have my vote too, Mr. Michaels!"

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