Flattopped
Executive Order 58008: Naughty or Nice Program
December 20, 2025
By the authority vested in me as President by the Constitution and the laws of the United States of America, it is hereby ordered that all children age 18 must receive a mandatory haircut thereby letting the public know whether they are on Santa’s Naughty or Nice list.
The Order operates on the assumption that minors are protected under our laws and can change. However, statistics are showing an alarming increase in minors continuing on the naughty list into adulthood. In an attempt to curb this trend and make America great again, we are implementing consequences to being naughty at that juncture when teens become adults. They will tell the world by their haircut where they stand. Hopefully, this public shaming and accountability will motivate them to correct their behavior, and serve as a deterrent to those younger motivating them to correct their behavior before they reach 18.
Effective immediately, all 18 year olds must report to their nearest military base barbershop for processing. Failure to do so will result in automatic placement on the Naughty List of you and your parents and subject both parents and child to the required haircuts by a mobile enforcement squad. These haircuts will be delivered at a time and place chosen by the squad to maximize humiliation of the offenders.
REQUIRED HAIRCUTS:
Nice List
Male – short back and sides. If hair is already shorter than this then the barber will give transition cuts the first two months until this look is achieved.
Female – bowl cut. Hair will be cut in a straight line starting an inch above the eyebrows and continued all the way around the head. Any hair below the cut line will be clippered using a #00000 blade. If hair is already shorter than this then the barber will give transition cuts the first two months until this look is achieved. Also, dyed hair will be returned to its natural color.
Naughty List
Male – poodle perm. Hair will be cut to 2-3 inches in length, permed with an extra strength perm solution using the smallest rods, shaped into a tight ball of curls, then clippered using a #00000 blade up the nape and around the sides to a level just above the ears. If hair is already shorter than this then the barber will give transition cuts the first two months until this look is achieved.
Female – horseshoe flattop. Flattop will be 3/4 inch in front and progressively shorter on the sides. The landing strip will be a minimum of 2 inches wide and shaved bare. The back and sides will also be shaved. If hair is already shorter than this then the barber will give a transition cut the first month until this look is achieved.
DURATION:
Nice List – These haircuts will be maintained monthly for 12 months following the first haircut. If at that time, the person remains on the Nice List, then there are no no further obligations. If, however, the person is now on the Naughty List, see continuing requirements under Naughty List below.
Naughty List – These haircuts will be maintained monthly for 12 months following the achievement of the proper length. At that time, if the person remains on the Naughty List, the haircut requirement will be extended 3 years, and the person will be required to complete a 2 month basic training course.
All determinations of Naughty or Nice will come directly from the North Pole and all decisions are final.
Eighteen year olds have 30 days from the date of this Executive Order to report for their haircut.
This executive order will sunset after 10 years, unless renewed by a future president.
Signed: The President of the United States
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Jessie read and reread this notice that had just arrived for her in the mail. She subconsciously played with the ends of her ponytail trying to comprehend what she was seeing. Can they do this? Can they force me to get a haircut? And where do I rate on the Naught or Nice List? I think I’m good. I go to church, help around the house, and volunteer at the senior center, but I did get caught recently having sex with Brian. I honestly don’t know where I stand.
“Mom, what should I do?”
“Well honey, I know you love and care for that gorgeous hair, but if the President says you have to report then you have to report. And besides, could you see your dad with a poodle perm and me with a horseshoe flattop if you fail to report?”
“This isn’t funny mother! This is my hair we are talking about! God, I wish I had turned 18 last year instead of this year.”
“Honey, I know you’ll do the right thing. You’re a good girl, except for lewd and deviant sex acts we caught you doing with your boyfriend, the vacuum, and that ventriloquist doll. You’ve got 29 more days to report, but I think you should just get it over with sooner rather than later.”
Jessie went upstairs and stood in her bathroom brushing her hair as she did every day. The long curly locks reaching to just below her breasts. It was her magnificent hair that had attracted Brian. Would he still want her without it? Her phone buzzed and it was him. “Brian, did you get a notice too?”
“I did, and all our friends did too. Have you not seen all the texts? Hailey wants to start a protest, but most of us think that is just begging to be put on the Naughty List. She’s probably already on that list so she has nothing to lose.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Well, you know how intimidating my dad can be. He said in no uncertain terms that he is not getting a poodle perm if he has to drive me down there himself. Do you want to go together? I can hold your hand and we can get through it together.”
“I’d like that. Thank you. Should we wait as long as possible or just get it over with?”
“My dad said I have to go this week or he’ll drag me there next week and film it for social media. I planned on going tomorrow if you want to come with me. “
“Ok, might as well get it over with rather than fretting over it for several more weeks.”
The next morning Jessie said goodbye to her hair. She washed and conditioned it, and blow dried it with the diffuser to maximize the volume and curls. She’d never seen her “fuck me” hair look sexier. She then took way too many selfies knowing her hair would not be this long again for several years. She sent them to Brian, then posted the best to IG with the caption “BEFORE”, teasing her followers that an AFTER picture was coming.
Brian picked her up and they set off for the military base. His blonde surfer dude hair also seemed to look amazing this morning, like he’d given it his extra attention too. The ride over was a quiet one, both nervous and deep in thought about what was to come. Jessie was panic stricken over which List she was on, so much so that she hadn’t even considered which list Brian might be on. She questioned whether her short floral dress, denim jacket and converse were the right attire for this, but then this is uncharted territory for everyone so who knows.
At the base there was a special line for access to the barbershop with about 20 cars lined up while they checked IDs. From there, orange cones directed them into a large parking lot in front of the spinning barbershop pole.
A line extended out of the shop and down to the end of the block. Through the large front windows Jessie could see ten barbers busily shearing or perming caped patrons. A row of chairs lined the front of the shop with the backs to the window. These were normally used for waiting customers but now all sat occupied by boys with heads full of perm rods waiting for the solution to set. At 10am, the quantity of cut hair, perm rod wrappers, and used neck strips on the floor nearly covered the barbers’ shoes. She wondered what it would look like at closing time.
They walked hand in hand to the end of the line and were met by a soldier asking for identification. He stamped their hands and added them to the electronic queue using an electronic tablet. Jessie saw a few boys and girls from her school there. She heard a couple of girls speculating that pop star Mara J was in front of them with a hoody and sunglasses on. Slowly they inched there way forward, reality sinking in more and more every time someone came out of the shop transformed into society’s new visual depiction of naughty or nice. Faces told the whole story, most either showing shock or devastation. The silence was eerie for such a large gathering of 18 year olds, but neither those in line nor those coming out spoke. The only noises audible were the sound of clippers chewing through hair in the shop and the soldier outside managing the line.
Finally, they reached the threshold of the door and realized that meant they were actually now the front of the line. Jessie used her phone’s camera to sneak one last look at her long hair as she ran her fingers through it. Which list am I on? What haircut will I walk out of here with? She looked around the shop noting three boys in rods in the waiting chairs, each holding a file card with a time on it, most likely when the neutralizer needs to be applied. The smell of their perms overpowering the other smells of cut hair, clipper oil, and talc. One boy in a chair was wincing as the barber looked to be rolling the perm rods too tightly. The boy was forced to participate in his own humiliation by having to hand the small sheets of tissue that wrap around each rod. Four boys were getting short back and sides cuts that were on the really short side. Four girls were in tears as the barbers used their large clippers to carve the bowl on the top of their heads then shave off everything below. The mounds of blonde, brown and black hair on their shoulders and laps made Jessie want to cry for them. Two girls were covered in hair as the barbers removed all but the little horseshoe shaped ring of hair on top of their heads. One looked shell shocked, the other hysterical. There were also two soldiers there to help the barbers hold any uncooperative customers. The final barber had just rinsed and removed the perm rods from a boy in the corner sink and was walking him back to his chair to shape up the ball of curls and shave the lower part away.
“Next” a barber at the end of the shop yelled. Brian did the chivalrous thing going first and walked toward the open chair. The barber quickly pulled a paper strip around his neck, fastened the cape, and ratcheted the chair higher. Brian was pale, his eyes staring straight ahead as though he was afraid to move or in a trance. Jessie wondered if he had ever been in a barbershop before.
The barber looked his name up on a screen behind him which likely informed him what haircut to administer, then reached for his comb and scissors. He started by grabbing Brian’s bangs and lopping them off leaving just a few inches, the rest falling in front of his eyes and onto his lap. The next handful of hair was a little further back with the same result, then another and another until the barber had reached the back of the crown. Jessie could not determine yet which haircut Brian was receiving.
She was jolted back to her current predicament when the person behind her pushed her towards an impatient barber that had obviously been trying to get her attention. “Let’s go honey, I have a mountain of hair to remove today, including that lovely red mane of yours girly.”
She hesitantly made her way towards the red leather and chrome chair. She made eye contact with each boy and girl she passed. They all shared a bond, a traumatic experience, a loss.
She hopped up into the large barber chair, so large her feet didn’t reach the footrest. It was still warm from the last customer. She was immediately covered in a large maroon cape, felt her hair all pushed to one side as a paper strip was wrapped around her neck, the cape was snapped tight, then the top of the neck strip was folded down. This was a new experience for her, but one she would undoubtedly experience at least 11 more times.
She felt the chair jolt higher and higher as the barber raised her up to a better working height. Waisting no time, the barber gave his large industrial clippers a quick brushing, then moved to the right side of the chair and turned them on. The loud whir they made startled Jessie. She’d never had clippers used on her before.
She gripped the arm rests tightly knowing that she was about to find out which haircut she was getting. The clippers were placed on her right cheek then she felt them move straight up to her temple pressed tight against her skin as the first two foot long clumps of hair fell in her lap.
Zzzzzzzzt
Oh fuck, I’m getting a flattop! She turned to look in the mirror behind her to confirm that the bald strip went higher than it would for a bowl cut. “No! No! No! No!”, she cried “I’m a good girl! There’s been a mistake!” Tears began to flow as she became hysterical and tried to pull the cape off and scootch forward to get her feet on the floor to run.
The two soldiers in unison moved forward to restrain her, but the barber waived them off saying, “I’ve got this.” With the clippers still running he reached across her with his other arm and with his hand in her armpit hoisted back in the chair, then with that same hand quickly grabbed the top of her head and roughly pushed and held it against her left shoulder and pushed the clippers up the right side directly behind her ear sending more beautiful curly red hair cascading down.
Jessie continued to sob, her chest heaving as tears streamed down her cheeks and her hair streamed down her front. She had lost the will to resist, the barber was too strong and the damage was done.
“Are you going to be a good girl now?”
“Yes sir” she meekly replied.
He gently pulled her head upright again, folded her ear forward and removed all the hair above it up to the line he was setting for the flattop. He continued working his way around the back stripping away all her once glorious hair and leaving only the faintest of stubbles.
A numbness set in, almost like this was an out of body experience. She felt pass after pass of the clippers but that was all she felt, thought or saw. Her mind was blank. Boys and girls continued to shuffle back and forth in front of her, clippers continued their loud whines, and barbers bellowed instructions but Jessie tuned all that out, retreating to the safety in her mind. Almost as if trying to convince herself that this is just a bad dream. She reached out with one hand and grabbed a long lock of her red hair from her lap and rubbed it back and forth between her fingers. It somehow felt different now than it did when it was attached to her head, not silky and lustrous but fine and disjointed.
The barber continued his relentless assault on her hair, now stripping the left side bare. The piles of hair on her shoulders and lap were massive. Once the last pass was made upwards in front of her left ear, the barber cleaned up the lower line of the flattop around her crown and began creating the vertical walls on the sides that form the foundation that supports the flattop. He’d cut each section over and over and over removing mere millimeters at a time until he was satisfied with the precision of the hair.
Moving on to the top, the barber held the comb horizontally at her hairline about an inch above her head then ran the clippers over the comb severing all the hair above the comb leaving a strip of hair that was now flat across rather than following the curve of her head. Flicking his comb, clumps of hair up to six inches long fell down her face, some landing on her nose causing it to itch. She dared not move to scratch it though. The barber combed up the next section of hair directly behind the first pass and leveled it off, then repeated this process until he had reached the back of her head. He then turned off the clippers and set them on the counter.
She hoped this meant he was done but no such luck. She felt his hands rubbing some hair product into what little was left of her hair pulling it back over and over, probably to make it all stand at attention like she’d seen the the hair do on the other girls with flattops. He then came around in front of her and began vigorously brushing the hair back to make it all vertical.
While he was retrieving his clippers again, Jessie looked around the room. Was Brian done? What haircut did he get? That’s when she noticed him now sitting on one of the waiting chairs, a dejected look on his face, a head full of row after row of tiny yellow rods no more than 3/8ths inch in diameter, a strip of cotton all around the border of the rods to prevent perm solution from dripping down, and a file card that indicated he would be sitting there for 20 minutes while the perm solution processed, then he would be rinsed, neutralized, and shaped up into a tidy little poodle perm. She remembered from her days of getting perms that yellow rods were the smallest and produces the tightest corkscrew curls like all the old ladies at the senior center have where she volunteers. How is Brian going to look with old lady hair? He lifted his head and gave her a quick glance. He tried to put on a brave face but she could tell he didn’t mean it. His body gave him away as his neck and face flushed red with embarrassment.
She was snapped out of her reverie by the sound of the clippers firing up again. This time the bare blades were placed a few inches back from the center of her front hair line and pulled straight back leaving a bald strip on top of her head and leaving the only hair left on her head in the shape of a horseshoe. Her thoughts drifted from how horrible Brian was going to look with old lady hair to how hideous she’d look with a man’s military haircut. With methodical precision, the barber with horizontal comb and clippers reduced all the remaining hair down to the same level as the bald strip on top. Finally, he used a foil shaver on the back, sides and bald strip on top to make the skin baby bottom smooth.
The barber tidied up the lower edges with shaving cream and a straight razor, then used a little barbers brush around her head and across her face to remove any little stray hairs. “There you go darlin’, one Naughty haircut for one naughty girl . See you in a month.” With a flourish, the barber whisked the cape off of her causing the hair in her lap to land on her shoes. He didn’t turn her to show her her new haircut, he didn’t care whether she liked it or not. None of these barbers did. They had a job to do and a lot of waiting heads to sheer.
Jessie ran a hand over her head as she rose from the chair. The sensations of the air conditioning on her bare scalp and the sensation of the short bristles of hair on her head were foreign and would take some getting use to. As she started for the exit she looked back at Brian, still sitting in the waiting area for his tiniest of curls to be permanently set. Distracted by Brian and kicking the red hair off her shoes she collided with another flattopped girl exiting the shop.
“Oh…excuse me. I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. Hey, aren’t you the singer Mara J? I love your music”
“ I was Mara J. Now I just feel like ugly McUgly pants! My manager told me the government won’t allow me to wear wigs to perform and I could never face an audience like this”, then she started to cry. Jessie put her arm around her as they moved outside.
“I’d still come see you. You have an amazing voice, beautiful eyes, an amazing smile, and adorable little ears. I think you will be ok.”
“Thank you! You are so kind, even after suffering the same traumatic experience as me. I didn’t even get your name.”
“I’m Jessie.”
“Well nice to meet you Jessie. Maybe we can hang out some time. Here is my card.” Then she turned and headed towards the parking lot as she put her hoody back up and her sunglasses on.
Jessie stood in front of the shop under the barber pole waiting for Brian. The boys and girls in line stared at her haircut, all hoping they were on the nice list. In the reflection in the window she got her first glimpse of what was left of her hair, a little ring of red hair no more than three inches wide on the front and sides with the longest hairs in front maybe 3/4 of an inch high. Her newly exposed skin was starkly whiter than the rest of her skin telling the world she had been recently shorn. Her ears were not cute like Mara J”s and stuck out to the sides drawing attention to them. And the lack of her thick red hair surrounding her face really made her slightly chubby cheeks and double chin more prominent. Finally, her precisely cut flattop stood in stark contrast to her floral dress and jean jacket. How does one even dress to compliment this haircut? Camo?
Her gaze wandered into the shop to find Brian. We was now having the neutralizer rinsed off and the rods removed. The wet curly hair clung tight to his scalp as he made his way back to the barber chair. The barber used a pick to tease the curls out, the snipped at them with scissors like a gardener shaping a hedge. Brian stared at his shoes and the tiny little snippets of curls that slid down the cape, occasionally wiping a stray one off this face.
To complete the look the barber took his large clippers with no guard on them and sheared all the curls off on the back of Brian’s head up to his occipital bone, then carefully carved away all the curls around each ear to fully expose them. Then a quick whisking with his little brush to remove the stray hairs, and then the cape was removed.
“There you go Margaret, now you’re all ready for the big bridge tournament at the old folks home!”, the barber laughed as Brian rose from the chair. “And don’t wash it for two or I’ll be re-perming it again next month.”
He glanced back in the mirror at the round ball of hair that now sat on the top portion of his head contrasted with the hairless nape. From the back he was sure he could be mistaken for an old woman. This was his grandma’s hair! He reached up and touched it. It looked and felt like blonde pubic hair on his head.
Jessie met him at the door and they rode home in silence. The smell of his perm competing with the smell of her flattop wax. When they reached Jessie’s house they parted without a word, and for the next several months each retreated into their own quiet home life, falling out of touch with each other, the ventriloquist doll in the corner a sad reminder of happier times. Jessie never did post the AFTER photo on social media, she was too embarrassed to. In fact, she deleted the app from her phone because it was soul crushing to see the BEFORE photos. She became a recluse never leaving the house except to go to school and church, and of course for her monthly flattops. Perhaps if she’d been on the Nice List she would have been more willing to show her face in public. Looking back at this experience she could see how it would be easier to make the Nice List now because there was little trouble she could get into when she was home alone. Her grades improved and so did her relationship with her parents. She also had a new texting friend, Mara J (now just MJ) who also withdrew from the public’s eye. Maybe there was something to this Executive Order.
