Male Haircut Stories

As you may have noticed, Joe gets on my nerves a bit at times. It's not that there's anything wrong with the guy - on the contrary, he turns me on in a perverse sort of way. However, he is a wee bit mercenary. And his hair is getting too long. Need I say anymore?

So it was that The Plan was put into action. Not only would it humble him a bit, but it gave all of us something to do during those cold winter months when we look for warmth, love and revenge.

The goal was plain - to get Joe in my chair, begging me to cut all his hair off. I wanted it, he wanted it, and all it would need is a bit of manoeuvring to make it happen. This is where it's good to have transvestite friends. No-one recognises them when they're in their 'straight' clothes.

**********

It started one evening, just as Joe started his shift, and about an hour before I got there to relieve my father. A gentleman walked up to the desk, and asked for Joe by name. He put on his best 'Welcome the Guest' smile, and said "Yes, Sir. What can I do for you?"

The guy in the suit is extremely prim and proper, dressed in a three piece suit and a little silver tie pin. He fiddles with his glasses, then shuffles around in his brief case.

Mr. Ah...Anderson. It's about your Aunt Elizabeth. She is coming to visit, and I felt it my duty to get here and ... um... warn you before she 'appeared', so to speak."

"Warn me? I think you've made a mistake. I don't even have an Aunt Elizabeth."

The little man than proceeded to explain that he did indeed have an Aunt Elizabeth, who 'resided' in England, and was hunting down her nieces and nephews to find a suitable heir for her fortune. This made Joe's eyes light up enough for the lawyer to wish he was wearing sunglasses.

"Okay, I'm up for a little inheritance. What do I have to do? Show the old ...my loving Aunt around town for a bit? What?"

"Well, there's the problem. She is a fairly demanding person, and a couple of your cousins have already, how do you say, 'blown it' by coming on too strongly. I am afraid she is quickly running out of possible heirs." He then produced a newspaper from his case, and showed it to Joe. It had a picture of the plump old lady surrounded by several upper class english boys, taken (supposedly) while she was donating a large sum of money to a leading school. The article went on to say how much she detested the modern day vices of smoking, drinking and long hair on men, and she thoroughly approved of neatness and cleanliness.

(By now, you're probably wondering how Joe could possibly be falling for this sort of prank, but I'm sure people who watch Candid Camera also believe they'd never be fooled. All Joe could see was a way to get rich quick. Why should he even suspect that someone with a computer and a fancy Desktop Publishing program would create a fake newspaper just to con him?)

Now, Joe's hair was long enough to go below his collar, and long enough at the sides to cover his ears. But after a consultation with the lawyer (who he assumed was helping him in order to get a cut of the Lady's millions) he was convinced that he should look like one of the English school boys in the photo. Plan A was in effect.

Joe came over to the shop, and showed me the photo. I looked surprised, and suggested he didn't want anything so drastic. Of course, he wasn't ready to beg, so he suggested going somewhere else in the morning if I didn't want to do it. That's when the lawyer spoke up to inform Joe that his Aunt would be arriving first thing in the morning.

I was setting Joe up for something, so after a little pleading on his part, I gave in and reluctantly (yeah, right) set to work on his hair.

Now, an English style is thick, but with no added body. Joe had nice, fine hair, so I didn't take anything off the fringe, just used the scissors to cut around the ears and along the back. It didn't take too long to taper the ends so they curled inward, giving it a nice, rolled edge. Then it was a matter of giving him a crisp part, and making sure the top was flat and that the fringe was going to continually drop in his eyes and annoy the hell out of him.

When I finished, he looked ten years younger, and although he hated the cut, he was willing to endure long enough to make sure he got a mention in the will. I was satisfied for now. The best was yet to come.

************

The Aunt turned up right on time the next morning, and although I wasn't there to see it, my fellow conspirators filled me in on it later.

Joe had dragged out a blazer from the back of his closet, and looked exactly like some preppie, upper classman, like someone just out of college and starting work in an accountants office or law firm (no offense, guys).

He was hard pressed to entertain his overbearing and demanding Aunt, and by the time he showed up for work that evening, he was very aggravated. It wasn't just the woman, either. His long fringe, which he usually moussed or blowdried out of the way, insisted on falling over his eyes, and all it took was a strong gust of wind to rearrange it into something new and different. This is what I can't understand about bald men using the comb-over technique. Besides not fooling anyone for a second, in a strong wind they end up looking like an egg surrounded by a war party of upright caterpillars.

Anyway, by the end of the week, Joe had just about had it. What with being nice to a woman who insisted on pulling the waistband of his pants up in public and the constant need to keep his hair from permanently blinding him, he was ready for the next step.

************

Joe came into my shop on the Saturday evening, accompanied by the lawyer and his Aunt. Of course, I pretended not to know what was going on, so it all had to be explained to me.

It turned out that the Aunt was due to fly out the next day, and she was willing to leave her extensive fortune to Joe, after one more little detail was taken care of. It seemed that every member of her family was born with a birthmark on the top of their head, which proved they came from 'noble English stock'. All Joe had to do was show her the mark, and she'd be on her way.

Unfortunately, she was nearsighted, and couldn't make it out with all that hair in the way, so she had suggested he get it 'cut orf'. By this stage, I think Joe would have agreed to anything. It's a strange thing, but it's like backing a losing team. You spend so much energy barracking for them, even after you realise they are complete failures, you can't turn around and admit you were wrong. There are some people who still hink the earth is flat.

Joe sits in my chair, and says he wants a buzz cut, but I tell him that I'm just closing up, and he'll have to wait 'til Dad comes in tomorrow. Joe starts pleading with me, offering money, begging me to cut his hair before his Aunt leaves.

This is the part I was waiting for.

"Are you really sure you want me to use these clippers and cut all your hair off?" I felt like I was reading him his rights.

"Yeah, and you can start with this!" he replied, tugging at his wayward fringe.

I used the clippers to take his hair down to a reasonable crew cut. Then the three of us standing stood around him, trying to get a good look at his imaginary mark. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to hold the mirror in such a position that he could see the mark, but we assured him it was there.

Then the lawyer piped up with the idea of taking an official photo, which we could witness, that would assure his claim to the money. However, even with the buzz cut, the hair was still going to interfere. "Would it be too much to ask you to shave your head, so we could get a good picture? I assure you it will grow back, and it will make the transfer of funds a lot easier in the long run."

What could he do? I pulled out my razors and lather, and prepared to strip him of the last shred of hair. But only because he asked me to. Normally, I wouldn't do such a thing. Really.

When he was finished, his shining scalp gleamed white under the hotel lights. I polished it up so it had the same gleam as the marble walls in the lobby. I asked him how he was going to explain it to the boss, but he answered with the sure knowledge he was in line to inherit millions, and so he didn't need a job anymore. The lawyer took a lot of pictures - of the non-existent birthmark, of Joe and his 'Aunt', and of course, me with my hand on the newly shaved head.

I won't bore you with the details of what happened next, like me revealing that the lawyer was really Miss Beau Dean, and 'Aunt Elizabeth' was really a truck driver from somewhere just outside the city limits. I am sure I can't repeat what Joe said when he found out, even on an x-rated internet site.

There are photos of Joe available in Pepper's bar, just down the road, and there is one of him sitting on my chest threatening to pluck every hair off my head one by one (which really isn't as bad as it sounds) and making me lick his boots and apologise until hell freezes over (which is as bad as it sounds). However, I wouldn't mention it to him. He's still a bit sensitive.

He didn't lose his job, and his hair did grow back, and everyone thinks he's a better person for it, but he still tends to look at me sideways sometimes, as if he's plotting his revenge.

Anyway, if you're ever in my part of the world, and you want a bit of a trim, or something more daring, drop by and see me. I'm here, waiting to give you the cut you've always dreamed of, at the Late Night Hotel Barber Shop.

Labels: LNHB