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Daniel by Moc
It was a busy Saturday night, I was drinking beer and losing a game of pool to one of the regular pool players at my neighborhood sports bar. As I returned to my table to grab a sip of beer between pool shots, I noticed that Daniel and his brother Chris had just come in the bar and were looking for a table. A quick shout caught their attention and they grabbed the last two stools at my table. Daniel is college student, finishing a secondary education degree, majoring in math and Chris is a engineering student at a college in a neighboring state.
Chris said they had just come from a practice jam with their band, Chris is the drummer and Daniel plays bass. "Dan, we've got to change our image, we=re stuck in a rut! We need to make an impression, and we've only got two weeks until the festival! Dude, you've got to >hawk it again!" Daniel was silent as he took a long drink of his rum and coke and glared at his younger brother. At 6'2", with the lean frame of a runner, Daniel stands out in a group, not only because of his piercing blue eyes, but also because of his mane of thick, curly, dark brown hair, that cascades to the middle of his shoulder blades.
"Hawk it? What's that all about?" I asked. Daniel proceeded to explain that one summer, when they were teenagers, he had persuaded his father to let him get a Mohawk. "My friends and I would re-create the battle scenes from that 1990s movie Last of the Mohicans, and I was always the Huron warrior Sly Fox. We waged war in the woods along the river virtually every day. I finally convinced my dad to let me get a Mohawk. It was so great, I kept it all summer! When fall came, and I had to go back to school, my mom freaked out when she saw my hair. My dad was cool about it and told her it would grow back."
I grinned at Daniel and said, "Well, if you need a barber, I've got clippers and shaving cream! Anytime, anyplace!" Chris laughed and elbowed his brother as I returned to my pool game. An hour later, after two more pool games, I finished my pitcher of beer. "Gentlemen, I'll see you another night, time to head for home. Daniel, you know where to reach me if you need a barber!" I grinned as Daniel self-consciously ran his hand over his mane.
I was drinking a beer and channel surfing, while waiting for a pizza delivery when my doorbell rang. "Come on in!" I yelled. The door opened, but it wasn't the pizza guy, it was Daniel. "Pizza should be here shortly. Beer is in the fridge, there is rum and cola in the cupboard over the stove, make yourself at home!" I said, as the knocking on door indicated the pizza was here.
We sat at the counter, eating pizza and drinking beer. "So what=s up?" I finally asked Daniel. "Is that offer of a Mohawk still good? It's been ten years since I cut my hair, I guess it's time." Daniel replied. "When I was a kid I even had a pair of moccasins, sort of like yours," he said as he gazed at the elk mocs on my feet. "Are they deerskin or moose? I'd like to get a pair," said Daniel. I told him they were elk as I helped myself to another piece of pizza. "Daniel, what size do you wear?" I asked. When I heard him reply size 12, I excused myself and went to the hall closet. "Here you go, I got two pair as Christmas gifts!" I said. He kicked off his flip-flops, and quickly donned the buckskin-colored elk mocs, an identical pair to what I was wearing. "Oh my God! These are incredibly soft, and they fit perfectly!" he said with a grin on his face. "Well, they are yours, my friend." I replied.
As Daniel finished up his pizza, I grabbed a counter stool and headed to the bathroom. I pulled out my clippers, shaving foam, and a fresh pack of blades for the Mach 3 razor. Daniel appeared at the doorway, so I gestured for him to have a seat. "The barber shop is open!" He peeled off his blue tee-shirt, and ran his hands through his thick mane of hair. "Ready?" I asked, and he nodded his head.
I took the first swathe with the clippers up through his right sideburn almost to the top of his head. I smiled as a low moan escaped from Daniel. Dark brown curls tumbled over his legs and mocs as they drifted towards the floor. As I continued around his ear and along the sides of his head, I gathered the 20 inch locks and laid them on the bathroom counter. As I switched to the left side of his head, I glanced in the mirror to see the slightly stunned expression on his face. "I can't believe I'm doing this!" Daniel moaned, as I drove the clippers relentlessly through the hair on the left side. "It's all for rock and roll! Don't worry, hair grows." I intoned as I concentrated on making sure the strip of hair from his forehead to the nape of the neck was perfectly centered. When I had it down to about 2 inches wide, I turned off the clippers, and grabbed a barber's shears and comb. I trimmed the crest to about 4 inches long, but I left the hair at the nape full length. I worked some hair wax into the crest and was rewarded with a perfectly upright Mohawk.
"Oh my God, this feels incredible!" said Daniel as he ran his hands over the sides of his head and felt the crest of hair. "We are not done yet." I told him as I filled the sink with warm water, and put a fresh blade in the razor. I worked the shaving foam into the dark nubs of hair on his head. The stubble gave way to steel as the razor removed the vestiges of hair, revealing a perfect pate. "You are lucky!" I said, "You've got thick hair, and a perfectly shaped head for his haircut." I re-lathered his head and used another fresh razor blade to remove all traces of stubble. I braided the long hair at the nape, "For your war plumes!" I told Daniel.
"There you go, one Mohawk!" I said, as I gathered up Daniel's 20 inch locks from the counter. I gathered a fistful of long, curly locks, tied the end with a rubber band and handed them to Daniel, "Here you go Sly Fox, a scalp for your belt!" We returned to the kitchen to grab another beer, and as we sat there, Daniel kept running his hand over his head. "Wow! I can't believe I did this!"
As Daniel left with his 'scalp' and flip-flops in hand, I told him I'd meet him for a beer on Tuesday night! When I walked into the sports bar that evening, Daniel and Chris were playing a game of pool. "Hey, thanks for the mocs! They are awesome!" said Daniel as he went to take his turn. I grabbed my beer and joined them at their table. "Thanks for giving Daniel a Mohawk!" said Chris, "It really broke our band out of a rut, and he does like it, even if he won=t admit it!" "You've got to come to the rock festival, we play on Saturday evening." said Daniel as he handed me a flyer. I told them I would be there, and then challenged Daniel to a game of pool.
A week and a half later, I was standing in a grassy field, drinking warm beer, when Chris and Daniel=s band finally came on stage. I did a double take when Daniel came on stage. He was wearing a bone choker around his neck, a red feather tied in his hair, red and black theatrical paint on his face and chest, the elk mocs, and a buckskin-colored loincloth. "Oh my Gawd!" squeaked the stunning blonde standing nearby, "Look at the bass player, he's incredibly hot!"
Their music was loud, heavily punk-rock influenced, and the crowd loved them! After their set, I wound my way backstage to congratulate Daniel and Chris. When I got there, the young blonde lady, who I had seen earlier was talking softly to Daniel, as he scribbled down her phone number. I smiled to myself as I reflected that Chris was right, sometimes you just have to Hawk It!