Male Haircut Stories

I don’t know if you’re into sport, but sometimes it can make grown men do some really strange things. I work the late shift at my fathers’ barber shop to make some extra money while I get my degree, and as I’m probably the only hairdresser open late at night, I do get some really wierd customers.

For instance, this one night it was about 10 p.m., and I was thinking of crossing to the front desk to see if Joe wanted to have a cup of coffee, when there was what is politely called a disturbance at the front doors of the hotel. There were four tall guys trying to push a fifth guy through the glass panels, or that was how it seemed. The strange thing was they were all dressed in basketball uniforms - short shorts and yellow singlets - and unless something had happened that Joe hadn’t told me about, I was sure there were no courts in the hotel. The four push-ers finally got the push-ee through the double doors, but by this time Joe had met them at the entrance.

After a quick exchange, interrupted by what could only be swear words coming from the struggling man, Joe turned to look at me with a big grin, and waved me over. "What’s up?" I say, waiting for some incredibly bizarre explanation. One of the taller guys explained that their teammate had just lost them a championship game. Apparently his fringe was so long it kept blocking his view, and he insisted he was too ‘macho’ to tie it back in a ponytail. They had decided to take matters into their own hands, but rather than do the job themselves, they had decided to seek professional help, and as I was the only one open, could I...?

Now I knew what Joe had been grinning about. I think he was beginning to understand my particular tastes. Luckily the lobby was deserted as they dragged a struggling and uncooperative athlete across the floor to my shop. Joe vanished for a minute, but reappeared with a piece of sticking plaster he had pilfered from the first aid kit behind the reception desk. This was placed over the foul mouth of our frantic friend, as a matter of consideration for the other guests. As he flung his head back and forth in mute vehemence, I considered that his shaggy blond hair really was a nuisance. He was obviously trying to look like Fabio, but what looks good on a guy posing on the cover of a romance novel doesn’t particularly suit a professional athlete. What he needed was a good scalping (sorry, I meant ‘cut’).

They manhandled their teamamte into the barber chair and took up positions around him. One on each side held his arms down, a third stood behind him and held his shoulders back against the upholstery, while the third sat on the floor in front, keeping his legs from kicking someone (namely me). Joe just stood leaning against the door frame, an amused look on his face. One day I’m going to get him in my chair, and really wipe that smile off his face. Or at least give him something to really smile about.

"We told you what we’d do to you, Trev, if you didn’t do something about your hair," said the captain. "If you won’t do it, we’ll just have to do it for you." This must have been some important game they lost. I started off by combing out Trevor’s hair, getting rid of some of the tangles that he must have picked up in the struggle. Then I combed it forward over his face, and picked up my shiny chrome scissors to cut across his fringe. The crisp, crunch sound the scissors made as they sliced through his hair made me lick my lips in pleasure. I had to remember to keep one of these offcuts for my scrapbook.

Trevor looked slightly silly with bangs hanginging over his forehead and a swatch of tape across his mouth, but obviously his team mates weren’t satisfied. "I think he deserves a little more off than that. After all, Trevor wouldn’t want his hair to grow back too soon before the state finals, now would he?" The other three agreed with the captain, and Trevor renewed his struggles. A trim of his fringe was one thing, but he started to reealise what the others had in mind. I was glad that the other four were holding him down, because this guy was pretty strong, and the look in his eye told me he didn’t appreciate my part in all this. Actually, I think he may have wanted me dead.

I don’t know, it could have been my imagination.

Anyway, I picked up the electric clippers, and the captain grinned. Trevor struggled some more, but his eyes were focussed on the vibrating blades. I sorted through the comb attachments, and made a real show of discarding the bigger ones, and choosing one that everyone could see was going to leave him a short step from bald. As I approached him and placed a steadying hand on his head, he settled down somewhat. I think he probably didn’t know whether the clippers would cut him if he moved, but he seeemed docile enough as I proceeded to run them over his scalp.

Thick hanks of blond hair fell downover his chest and shoulders as I moved on to the back and sides. I didn’t know what he was going to do when they let him out of the chair, but the thrill of shearing this jock left no room for considering the consequences. His teamamtes cheered as some hair fell, and were busy making jokes about peach fuzz and how he was going to look like a ‘real man’ for once. Trevor just sat there, keeping his eyes on my every move in the mirror. Finally the last of the hair fell away, leaving his head with a light, even covering of light blond hair.

Actually, his hair was so light, it blended into his scalp, so he almost looked as if his head were shaved. He had stopped struggling, and just stared at himself in the mirror. I was busy brushing the hair off his bare legs and arms. Next time someone forces a guy into my chair for a buzz cut, I must take the time to get out the cape. The four team members tentatively released their prisoner, and we all stepped back to see what his reaction would be. I think we all hoped he would take it as a joke, but we couldn’t be sure. I noticed that Joe had quietly retreated back to his post and out of harms’ way.

Trevor just sat there for a moment, then stood up and tore the plaster from his mouth (that’s got to hurt).

He truned to confront his team captain, and the tension in the room was intense. The captain was feeling apprehensive, and perhaps a bit guilty. Trevor seemed way too calm compared to the way he was struggling when they first brought him in. When he spoke, though, he seemed rational enough. "I think getting my hair cut was a good idea, Eddie. In fact, I think it was such a good idea that the whole team should have it done." He stepped forward toward his now panicking captor.

The other team members either didn’t understand the implications of what was going on, or they had enjoyed the scene so much they couldn’t wait to be part of it again. Trevor and the other three grabbed Eddie, and it was his turn to be held down in the chair. Some nights it doesn’t rain, it pours. Eddie had shortish curly hair, which he kept out of his eyes but basically left as a ruffled heap on his head. I proceeded to ‘de-curl’ him with the scissors beofre setting to with the clippers. At least he was spared the indignity of having tape placed across his mouth. (Although at one stage Trevor threatened to stick a shaving brush in the offending orifice if he mentioned Trevor’s sister or army boots again.)

This whole buzz-cut-without-consent was done three more times, bringing the whole team back onto an even keel. They had loosened up, and started joking and making grabs for each others’ heads. Trevor and Eddie obviously were best friends, and with a few feigned punches and a meaningful avoidance of eye contact, you could tell that they had forgiven each other and would continue being mates. They offered to help me clean up before they left, as the floor was fairly well covered with hair cuttings. I graciously declined (as I had plans of my own for a floor full of freshly cropped curls), and after paying for their enforced shearing, they left to go find a bar to commiserate their loss.

I wasn’t sure whether they meant the game or the hair, but it was good to see that the prank had ended up bonding them more as a team, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they did win the State finals. Joe came over and made a few comments, and I thanked him for running away and leaving me with a potentially homicidal haircut victim. He laughed at that, and I suggested that maybe one night I would look the guys up and see if they would hold someone down for me while I gave him a well deserved shave.

Joe took the hint and sulked off back to his post. I collected up the loose hair, and proceeded to make a multi-coloured lock to put in my scrapbook. Two blonds, two browns and a black were twined together to remind me of the night that I did five in a row.

Life is rough, but someone’s got to do it.

Labels: LNHB