“How long have you had these?” Angie knelt down, turning vintage 1930s hair clippers over in hand.
“Wow… they’re heavy.”
“Put those back. They were my grandfather’s,” *Crack* Nathan’s skull drove into an exposed roofing
beam. “They’re dangerous!” Wincing in pain he rubbed the rapidly growing lump on his forehead.
“Aww…” Angie rushed over to her husbands side. “They’re no more dangerous than your superstitions,”
Like the doting wife she was she planted a healing kiss on his lump. “And they’re worth at least a
few bucks in the yard sale.” Twenty years, and Nathan was still as adorable as the day he wormed his
way into her freshman study group.
Rubbing his forehead Nathan held his ground. “I looked up what he told me. Back in 1942, twenty girls
in a small town out west all ended up bald with in a month.”
“Oh, come on,” A wave of chestnut curls curved across the air as Angie turned around in disbelief.
“These?” She held up the contentious clippers. “These caused twenty girls to shave their heads. In
1942?” She hesitated before dropping them back in their faded wooden box.
“You don’t have to believe me. Just don’t put them in the yard sale.” The attic stairs creaked under
Nathan’s weight. “Please, leave them.”
“Oh fine. We should get going anyway. All the good stuff will be gone.” Angie pulled the string to
the attic light. “Anything else you’ve been hiding?”
“Have fun at the flea market!” Eighteen year old Beth rolled her eyes at her parents driving away. “Old people…”
shaking her head as she climbed the stairs she ran her fingers through her tangled middle-of-the-back auburn waves.
Her color was from her father’s side. The texture her mothers. And it’s tendency to tangle all her own. “They
could have at least closed the attic…” She lamented as she crested the top of the staircase. “Huh…” a
sense of wonder built in her as the incandescent light of the attic beckoned her into its secrets.
“Anymore junk, guys?” she held the metal pull cord to the light in hands when it’s yellow light glinted off
a block of steel resting in a wooden box. Curiosity pulled her towards the vintage barbering tool. “Clippers?”
She flicked their switch on and off. “Why do we even have these?” She went to place them back in the box, but
found herself with them in her hand as she held the attic stair nearly closed. “Whatever. I’ll put them back
later,” She let go, letting them smack into the ceiling.
Back on task she went to find her comb. “Stupid knotty hair,” she opened the middle draw of the sink. Reaching
for her comb, she returned with the clippers held to her head. “How’s that for my subconscious kicking in?”
Her thumb clicked them on, and off. “Now, that would have been something…” reaching again for her comb she
jumped at finding her hand on a plugged in cord. “Now, that’s weird,” her hand gripped, and pulled back ending up
holding the clippers at her forehead. “Man, I would look good bald,” her enthusiasm took her by surprise. “I mean,
It wouldn’t knot anymore…” The clippers came to life with a *POP*, whirring loudly their intentions.
“What will my friends think?” the clippers plunged straight down the middle of her head. “Oh…” the force in
her hand urged her onward. Once more they dove in, harvesting their first feast in nearly a century, sending
curtains of auburn to Beth’s feet as they fed. Every pass sent two feet of auburn to cover the white tiled floor,
and every pass sent shocks through Beth.
“Oh…” her knees wobbled. “For me?” she asked as she fed the clippers their next course. In response her sex
ached in agonizing delight. Waves of auburn strengthened the long dormant glutton of hair who in return
intensified her waves of pleasure.
It was ending too soon, Beth tried to slow her master down. Insatiable it pushed her on. “As you wish,” Trusting
her master to find its way she pushed it up her nape. “More! She screamed,” her hair shined in a pile that hid her
feat. “Take it all!” The clippers raced the back of her head to savor every last lock. “oh god… OH GOD!” Beth
convulsed collapsing in spasms of ecstasy, dropping the still whirring clippers into a cushion her delicious hair.
Beth arranged her parents inventory for the next day’s yard sale. The passerbys of her suburban loop gawking
at her as they walked. “You have to wait until tomorrow!” She yelled sending them away.
“Beth…? BETH!” Abby, her friend since kindergarten ran towards her with her waist length curls shining like
gold. “You’re bald!”
“Isn’t it wonderful?” she placed her had on top of her purse.
“Why?” Abby darted around Beth as if looking for where she was hiding her auburn waves.
“Because, I had a knot,” she ran her hand over her bald head. “No longer a problem.”
“Are you OK?” Abby backed away.
Beth grabbed her purse. “Better than ever,” in a blur she was next to Abby with her hand on her shoulder. “I
think you should find out how it feels.”
Abby commanded her legs to run. “Are you sure?”
“It’s an experience you definitely need,” she wrapped her arm around Abby’s shoulder. “Let’s go to your place.”
“Yes, I think I’d like that,” Abby’s curls bounced as they started their final walk.
Beth’s purse urged her faster. You’ll get your fill. Just wait until you see her sister.