Just a Small Town Barber

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Just a Small-town Barber

 

By Shorngirl

 

Chapter One, Open for Business.

 

What’s a town without a barber? A town with a lot of shaggy people and bad haircuts. That’s what intrigued me about East Porter. I had driven through the place about a year ago, and was amazed by the fact that a town that size was lacking that most basic of amenities.

Needless to say, I’m a barber, but a fairly new one. I’d earned my license to cut hair some two years before, and had been working in a three-chair shop about fifty miles west of the little town. I had always wanted to open my own shop, despite the inherent pitfalls. So, I saw this void as a perfect opportunity.

East Porter itself is a lovely little place, nestled into a valley with one of the best trout streams in the area running straight through the middle. For over six months I had been scouring the local real estate ads, searching for a commercial opportunity that met my needs. As I really didn’t want to commute that far, I was ideally looking for a shop with an apartment overhead.

Then the most amazing stroke of luck befell me. I was cutting hair one day, and an older gentleman took my chair. He was looking for a trim, and I was happy to oblige. The conversation shifted around a bit, but for whatever reason, he mentioned that he was from East Porter.

“You could really use a barber out that way,” I suggested.

“Tell me about it. Why do you think I’m sitting in this chair right now.” He chortled. I started telling him about my plans, and that I really wanted to open my own shop, insisting that East Porter was an ideal location.

Well, he just about hopped out of my chair. “I think my coming in here must have been fate.” The old guy said. “It just so happens that I own a piece of property on Main Street that’s been vacant for over ten years. Take a guess what used to be in there.” He posed.

“Just a guess, but I’d go with … a barbershop.” I guessed.

“Yep, and I’ll tell you what. I’ll rent the place to you cheap if it means I won’t have to make this drive every other week.” We talked about the old place and that it would probably need a bit of fixing up. The great part was, all the original equipment was still in there, right down to the chair.

He left with a promise to have me out the following weekend so that I could inspect the place and come to a decision. To be honest, barring a complete disaster, the decision had already been made.

It took me all of two weeks to bring the shop online, as they say. Everything was there, so it was only a matter of cleaning the ten years of dust off of everything. My first open day was a Saturday, and although there were a few customers, it was not as hopping as I thought it might be. I hoped this wasn’t an omen.

I decided to stay closed on Mondays rather than Wednesdays, as it gave me a couple of days off in a row. Besides, that trout stream was calling my name, loud and clear.

Tuesday was another rather slow day, but then, weekdays were always hit and miss. To be honest, the rent that the old man was charging me, I didn’t need a whole lot of business to break even.

It was about four o’clock when I heard the tinker-bell ring over the door. It never fails, you head to the john, and the first thing that happens is a customer walks through the door. “Be right with you!” I called out, washing my hands before making my appearance.

What confronted me, caught me a little off guard. Three high schoolers sat in the row of old wooden chairs, which lined the one wall. The thing was; these were girls.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” I offered, not really sure if they might have been lost or on a dare. “You do realize that this is a barbershop?”

The one sitting closest sprung out of her chair and approached me, a deadly serious look on her face. She was obviously the spokesperson for the group. “You do cut women’s hair, right?” She queried.

“I cut hair. Who sits in the chair doesn’t really enter into it, whatever their gender.” I’d learned the hard way, still fresh out of the academy, that you never turned down business, male or female.

“Thank god!” the girl called out, bringing a cheer from her friends still seated behind her. “No more Claudette’s, ladies!” She celebrated.

“Who is Claudette?’ I asked, figuring I better get the lay of the land before I step on any toes.

“Claudette’s Cut n’ Curl down the other end of Main Street. You must be new in town.” She commented.

“Brand new, yep. Just opened up on Saturday.” I explained.

“Well, you can start with me, if that’s alright.” She introduced herself, eagerly climbing into my chair and stretching her neck symbolically, swiping her hair out from between her back. She had lovely blonde hair that most girls would die for, stretching clear down to her waist. I have to admit to feeling a tad nervous. I had cut girls’ hair before, but never this long.

“There’s a little rack over there.” I pointed to the number rack by the door. “If it’s crowded, you’ll want to take a number. That’s how I know who’s next.” The one girl stood up, heading in that direction. “It’s alright today. You’re the only ones here.”

Meri, or Meredith as I would learn later seemed anxious to get started, so I grabbed my cape and wrapped it around her shoulders. She seemed to know the drill, raising her hair so that I could fasten the crepe, and then the cape securely around her slender neck.

“So, just a trim then?” I assumed, incorrectly.

“Oh no. Not a trim, right girls?” She looked back at her friends by way of the freshly polished mirror. They all shook their heads. “I want something short.”

Now, what a girl might consider short would probably not be what I was thinking when I heard short. Short to me was a crewcut. I had a feeling I might be in serious trouble if I gave this girl a crewcut. “What do you mean by short, Meri?”

“I mean like boy short. You know, like clippers, shaving foam,” She assured me. “like my brother’s.” She held up her phone, a picture of what must have been her older brother in a football uniform on the screen. I looked at it closely, noticing that he was sporting a flattop, the sides shaved down to the skin.

“Are you sure, kid? This is really short f…” I almost said ‘for a girl’ but held my tongue.

“You were going to say it’s too short for a girl? Come on, mister. Times are changing, and girls are wearing their hair any way they want, now.” She grumbled. “At least everywhere but East Porter,” Meri added, acerbically.

“I want your word that you won’t regret this before I start cutting.” I insisted, spinning the chair around to face her friends. “I also don’t want your parents down here banging down my door, either.”

“What I do with my hair is my decision, so cut away.” Meri pressed.

I took a deep breath and just knew I was going to regret what I was about to do to this girl’s hair. “Are you going to donate it or anything?” I asked. I’d cut one girl’s hair in the city and she had me put it into a plastic bag for kids with cancer.

Almost as if reading my thoughts, she pulled a zip-lock bag out of her purse and handed it to me. I set the bag on the counter and used the hair tie that she handed me to secure the hair into a thick ponytail as close to her head as possible. This was at her instruction. I would have left a little room for backing out, but I wasn’t the one in the chair.

“Are you sure?” I asked, one last time, clippers on and poised to sever the one-inch-thick bundle. After a giggle and an excited breath out, she assured me she was. I wasn’t sure how well my Oster 76 clippers would work against the tightly bound hair. A little at a time, I whittled away at the knot, until it finally came away in my hand. I shouldn’t have been shocked, but I was, holding that amazing length of blonde hair.

There was a little cheer from Meri’s friends as I hefted the two-foot-long ponytail. Handing the plastic bag back to her, I had her hold it open as I lowered her severed mane into it. The bag barely held it all, and it wasn’t a small bag.

“That’s a lot of hair,” I commented.

“Good riddance.” Was all she said as she sealed the bag and tossed it in the general direction of her friends. I was taken by her lack of regard for what must have taken years to grow out. “I’ve had that lot since I was ten. I’m done with it.” She said, resolutely.

I looked at the choppy bob I’d given her, and had to start cutting. It bothered me to look at it. I picked up the clippers and snapped on a number four blade, the motor whirring to life.

Meri, in anticipation of my next move, dipped her chin to her chest, lifting the bob to expose her hairline. With some trepidation, I might add, I placed the clippers below that same hairline, pushing upward, peeling the back of her head down to three-eighths of an inch within a few seconds.

All Meri could do was giggle, complaining that the vibration of the clippers tickled. She quickly sobered as I worked my way around the sides, exposing her ears and leaving a long tuft of blonde hair on her crown.

“You said a flattop, right?” Just checking to be sure.

“Just like my brother.” She reminded me, taking a deep breath in as if to prepare herself. Her friends were now quite silent, their eyes wide as they watched Meredith lose the last of her long flowing locks. At this point, I spun her around to face the mirror. Her hands involuntarily shot up from under the cape to feel her ears, which protruded delicately from the sides of her head. They weren’t overly large, but I imagine it was a bit of a shock for her to see them so rudely exposed.

I snapped a number six guard on my Wahl 5 Star Cordless clippers, and unceremoniously stripped the top down to an inch in a matter of twenty seconds. It was a good place to start. Now with the bulk of Meri’s hair removed, I began to see the shape of her head. She would look good with a flattop.

Meri silently stared at the mirror now, as I used the scissors and comb to render the hair down to the prescribed length of a good short flattop. I think the reality of what she had asked for was finally sinking in. I had had every intention of leaving the sides a bit longer, in a sort of feminine version of the haircut. Looking at it though, I just didn’t think it suited her. With her jet white scalp showing plainly at the center of the top, I had to take the sides down.

I grabbed my Osters, slipping a zero blade into place, and began to shave up the sides to about an inch below the crown. I had started in the back, but as I worked my way around the sides, and Meri saw how short I was taking it, I noticed the first modicum of regret cross her face. She pursed her lips, as I stripped the hair from the sides of her head, leaving nothing but the finest stubble covering her scalp.

Blending in the top to the sides was a fairly quick affair, and I was about to un-cape her when my conscience settled over me. How could I let this haircut leave my shop, unfinished?

She startled a little as I dispensed the lather from the machine but seemed to calm considerably as the warm foam was spread over the back and sides of her head. I heard her sniff, undoubtedly enjoying the menthol scent of the stuff.

I started about midway between her barely perceptible hairline and the crown, shaving a line down so that only smooth scalp remained. Meri was enjoying this, positioning her head for me as I worked my way around. She was getting the whole show, and she knew it.

“Is it over?” She asked meekly, as I wrapped a hot towel around the sides of her head. I swear I heard her gasp as the damp terrycloth rubbed against her freshly exposed scalp.

“That’s it, Meredith.” I offered, slipping the cape from around her shoulders. She had an amazingly long neck, and the extreme haircut showed it off.

As she stood, she did a quick spin in front of the mirror and cracked a smile. “That’s exactly what I wanted. Perfect.” She exclaimed as her fingers slid over her neck and up to her ears, which were now stranded in a desert of hairless skin. “Perfect!”

I had to admit that she looked every bit as attractive as she had with the long flowing mane, but something inside me mourned what I had removed. After vacillating in the chairs for a minute, still amazed apparently at the change in their friend, one stood and walked on wooden legs to my chair.

“I’m Susie.” She said, almost in a whisper, her voice leaving her. She was far more nervous than Meri had been. Her mousy brown hair fell to just past her shoulders, and I nervously wondered what I might be asked to do to it.

She fumbled in her purse for a minute, and finally came up with her phone. Susie scrolled around for a minute before settling on a picture to show me. “This is my asshole brother. Cut it just like that.” She demanded.

I took the phone and regarded her brother. His was a simple buzzcut, probably a number two all over with whitewalls. I sincerely hoped her ears weren’t as large as his were. Handing the phone back to her, I was noticing a trend. “Are all of you getting your hair cut like your brother’s?” I asked. “Is this some sort of bet?”

Meri piped in, still admiring her new do with her fingertips. “Not so much a bet as a pact.” She pressed, eliciting a nod from her two friends.

I looked back at Susie who had buried her phone in her pocket. “Are you sure about this, Susie?” She was definitely not as thrilled about losing her hair as Meri had been. I hated to think she was succumbing to peer pressure. “Just because your friends are…”

“Just cut it. Jesus!” Susie cut me off, deliberately.

“Okay.” Not wanting to annoy her any further, I clipped a number two blade onto the Osters and brought them to her forehead. I shocked her a bit, I think, when I ran them straight down the middle, destroying her center part with a single pass of the clippers. I wasn’t going to stop until her entire head was shorn, and after her little tirade, I think it was exactly what she needed.

I got to that point where I was running them in opposing directions, back and forth front to back, side to side, making certain not a single hair on her head was longer than a quarter of an inch. That was when she finally smiled. I was getting concerned.

Unlike her friend, Susie’s ears did stick out quite prominently from the sides of her head, just as her brothers had. Although smaller than the boy’s had been, they still had that clamshell appearance, their pink tips extending a full inch from the sides of her head.

I set about peeling away the sides into whitewalls, giving her a good two-inch border around her ears and up the back. Once it was blended, it was a good cut, just not for her. She definitely didn’t pull off the look as well as Meri did. Susie’s bushy eyebrows and protuberant ears made for a rather masculine look. Anyone would be hard-pressed to recognize her as a girl.

I cleaned up the back and sides with the razor, but I think that Susie could see that she looked a bit too much like her brother in the mirror. She was not nearly as enthusiastic as I shaved the borders of the cut.

She practically bolted from the chair when I removed the cape, and I had to admit to almost feeling sorry for her. Then the little tantrum she had displayed in the chair came back to me, and I quickly absolved myself of any guilt whatsoever.

I spun the chair, suddenly feeling a little indifferent. “Next.”

The last of the three walked boldly up to my chair and flopped in. I had no doubt that she would be going through with the cut, and I wondered just what sort of hairstyle her brother sported. “And what’s your name?” I asked as everyone else had volunteered theirs.

“Anna.” She spouted, looking back at her two somewhat depilated friends.

“So, what sort of haircut does your brother wear?” I asked, assuming that the trend would continue.

“He’s in the marines, so go from there.” Meri and Susie both tittered in the background which garnered a rather piercing glance from the girl in my chair. Begrudgingly, she dug her phone out of her pocket and handed it to me. Right on the front wallpaper was a picture of a rather dapper young marine, who, if I wasn’t mistaken was wearing the recon emblem above a very impressive ribbon bar.

“You must be very proud,” I commented.

“Yeah. He’s worked really hard to get where he is,” She admitted, sighing quite audibly, “…and he’s probably going to kill me for doing this.”

“They say that imitation is the highest form of flattery.” Trying to set her mind at ease. I turned and put the zero blade on the clippers, and set them on the counter. Looking at Anna, I couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of dread over the idea of cutting into her hair. Hers was the longest of the three, at least when they had hair.

The golden mane hung to between her hips and her knees when she was standing, and with the cape wrapped around her, it very nearly fell over the hem. As I fastened it into place around her neck, there were some encouraging cheers from the peanut gallery.

Just as Meri had done, Anna pulled a large plastic bag from her purse and handed it to me along with a pink hair tie. “They ought to get at least two wigs from this mess.” She chuckled, nervously. “I want you to tie it tight and then clipper it off close. They might as well have it all.” She added, bravely.

Nodding, I motioned for Meredith to come up. I then instructed her to hold her friend’s hair up, so that it didn’t pull as I cut it. With that amount of weight on her scalp, I imagined it might tug a bit.

Realizing I still had the zero blade on the clippers, I switched it over to a two. I’d need that length on top to give her the recon she wanted.

Anna insisted on tying it up herself, pinching the doubled-up elastic as close to her scalp as she could manage.

“Ready?” Both she and Meri nodded seriously, as I placed the clippers at top of Anna’s forehead. I could see Meri’s eyes widen as I slowly peeled Anna’s luxurious mane from her scalp. I could almost hear her hair scream as I severed so close, I swear.

Meredith was doing a good job at holding up the substantial length of hair, but I could see that she was beginning to tire. I hastened the process, quickly stripping the sides and the back of their covering. When the hair finally fell free, I thought I saw Meri steady herself as the full weight of the ponytail fell against the strength of her arms.

You’re never going to get all that into that bag.” I pointed out. I disappeared into the back and retrieved a plastic grocery bag that had been hanging around since they actually used those things. “Here. This ought to work better.”

Meri reverently lowered the four-foot-long tassel into the bag, and it very nearly filled it. “I can’t believe you carried all that around.” She commented.

Anna regarded herself in the mirror, her once lustrous tresses all but gone. She ran a hand self-consciously over her bristled head, wincing at the feel of it. “My head feels like it might float away.” finally smiling.

“I bet it does, but we’re not finished if you want what your brother wears,” I instructed, changing the blade on the clippers back to a zero once again.

“Well, the damage is done, so I might as well go for it.” Anna sighed, running her hand over her head one last time before tucking them back under the cape.

“Okay. Here goes.” I said as I slid the clippers into Anna’s sideburn. With no hesitance, I pressed the clippers firmly against the skin, all the way to the edge of the crown. I watched as Anna’s eyes grew wider and wider, the more of her scalp shone through.

Strip after strip, I worked around the girl’s head until all that remained was the characteristic oval of hair so typical of a recon cut. Anna’s hair was so light, that even with a quarter of an inch remaining, she still appeared almost bald. Shaping the remaining hair, I shaved carefully over the top of her head, weighting the oval forward, military-style.

Once again, I used the straight razor to complete the look, only this time shaving Anna right to the top. I think she was a bit shell-shocked at the end, the first time her fingertips ran over her baby smooth scalp.

“God, I look just like Richie.” She blurted as she stood up from the chair.

“Trust me, Anna, you look nothing like your brother.” I complimented, and she didn’t. Of the three, Anna pulled off the look the best. Her ultra-feminine features left no doubt that this was a girl proudly sporting the ultimate male haircut.

When they went to pay me, I waved them off, saying that it was a pleasure to meet three girls as brave as they were. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself as they screamed amongst themselves once they were outside. I was certain they’d be the talk of the town for a while.

4 responses to “Just a Small Town Barber

  1. Hi everyone! Thank you so much for the kind comments. I thought I would write this one from a slightly different perspective. As an avid consumer of short hair, evidenced by my recent escapades, I have almost always written my stories from the woman’s perspective, as the one receiving the haircut or shaving as the case may be. This, written from the deliverer’s point of view, is a new idea, and one I hope to explore in this multi-chapter work. The way it is written, it leaves a lot of options to be explored, and I intend to do just that.
    Thank you!
    Claire

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