Male Haircut Stories

Last march a movie came to my small town. They advertised In the papers for extras for the film, and specified that all of the men and boys would be required to get 1950's haircuts. I thought this meant that I would get just what was a normal haircut for most guys. Even this was a little extreme because my hair was around shoulder length but I decided to go through with it, thinking that if it were just shorter and slicked back it would grow out very quickly. That was asuming it was still left one length just to the bottom of my neck.

So although it was going to be a trim it was not going to be layered or anything drastic. When I went to the audition they told me that I had a period face and with a visit to their barber I would be fine. What worried me about this was the fact that they paid local barbers to do the haircuts and you got a voucher and a time to go and get your haircut. The barbershop they assigned me to was the oldest and biggest In our small town and I had never been Inside. The day I went I was a little afraid but reasured myself that things would be fine. I opened the door and saw a sign that all the barbers were cutting hair for the movie today and I nodded and said yes here's my voucher and yes I'm with the movie . Unfortunately it was early in the day and there were only a couple of other guys there and I didn't see them before to know if they had had a drastic change or not.

The barber said "Hop up here In the chair and let's do it . His next attempt at humour was to loosen me up with "How bout a flat-top" I laughed , cringed and said no I don't think so . I told him just to shorten the back and I would slick it back real neat like a greaser. This Is where it became a life changing moment. He tightened the neckcloth and said "Don't worry!. Those movie people told me exactly how to cut it and thats the way I got to cut it. I had barely looked up in the mirror when I heard the sound of the clippers come on. Even in small amounts, clipping around my ears and underneath the back at my regular hair appointment that sound made me uncomfortabl .The very next thing I knew he took the clippers directly up the back of my head to what felt like the very top. I felt like I was going to puke and was so sick Inside I could not say another word. After the back went the sides and eventually the top. He just grinned and said "This is what they want, son."

I sat there so humiliated. He unfastened the neckband and shook to the floor all the hair that I had been trying to grow out for two years. I said nothing else and left, When I got to the car I looked In the mirror to see how bad it was and it was total. I drove to my friend's house and went inside. I looked like a drill seargent; my head was really white because it had not seen the sun under my previous mane and now I was shaved.The sides had nothing left and the top stuck up alittle but had had a shaved strip down the middle something like a flat-top .To make a long story short, my role as an extra in the movie was small , but I did eventually come around to liking my new short look. Today I'm cutting it in a less severe flat-top, with a short clipper on the side, with a slight landing strip down the middle. Why? Because I could not suffer through trying to grow it out again, and anyhow, now it's in style.

Labels: SA

I want to tell you about a most memorable experience during my senior year in highschool in Southern California. There was a group of guys on our baseball team standing in a circle as Jennifer and I got to the school parking lot on a Thursday morning. As usual, I was almost late getting there, so I was surprised they were still milling about. I was wondering whether some freshman hadn't scratched a team member's car and was about to get pummeled. Few other events could have attracted the attention of these guys in this particular place. Don't get me wrong. I'm on the baseball team too, but at times my teammates can act like Neanderthals. I parked and opened up Jennifer's door. I walked over to the group, but Jennifer walked on inside by herself. Dave, Randy, Frank, Jason, Greg and Pete were all swarming around Scott, who was in the middle of the circle. Everyone there was on the baseball team, so was it a matter of one team member had scratched another team member's car?

I was wondering what was going on when it became immediately obvious. If I hadn't known Scott since we were both in elementary school together, I probably wouldn't have been able to recognize him. Scott, Mr. GQ, now looked as though he could be in a Marine Corps recruiting commercial. The seven or eight inches of that oh so carefully styled, center-parted hair on top was almost entirely gone. And all the hair on the back of his head was completely gone. In fact, it looked as though it had been shaved with a razor. What's more, it was really obvious he had just gotten a haircut because there was very white skin on his head next to the dark tanned skin that can only come from an active outdoor life in Southern California. Lately guys have been getting short haircuts and I figured Scott had just decided to go for that trend -- with a vengeance. "Hey, Randy, what's up with Scott?" I asked. He started to snicker and said, "Looks like somebody got him mixed up with a sheep." "Actually, I think it looks pretty good," I said. I liked the short hair trend and was seriously thinking of having mine cut short ÷ though I wasn't sure I wanted to go as short as Scott had just done. "You do?" Jason said as he turned around. I could see from Jason's face that I wasn't the only one. "Yeah," I said. "And actually I bet you do too, Randy." "No way, not me," Randy said. I looked carefully at Randy for a moment and said, "Maybe you're right. You shouldn't get a haircut because you're so ugly you need all the hair you can get to cover everything up." Jason just laughed, but Randy wasn't too happy.

About this time Jennifer came back with Marsha, Scott's girlfriend. "Ok, guys, you need to hurry up and get inside before you're late. If you don't, you know coach will be on your case for being late," Marsha said. Amazingly, that seemed to do the trick as the group broke up and everybody headed to class. Jennifer and I walked together with Marsha and Scott inside the school. "Were they giving you a hard time back there?" I asked Scott. "Nah," Scott scoffed. "And, by the way, I think the haircut looks great," I told Scott. "What do you two think about it?" I asked Jennifer and Marsha. "I love it," Marsha piped up quickly, and she put her hands up on Scott's head and rubbed it. "Feel those bristles!" "Ok," I said laughing as I reached over to rub Scott's head. Scott just slapped my hand away. "Ouch," I said laughing even harder, feigning injury. Scott was grinning as I looked at him. "What if I got my hair cut like Scott's?" I asked Jennifer, hoping she would have half the positive reaction Marsha did. She shrugged and said, "It's your hair." That's it? I thought. No more reaction than that? But she doesn't hate it and doesn't forbid it. That settles it, then, I thought. I'm gonna do it.

"Where'd you go to get it cut?" I asked Scott as we walked inside the building. Scott was still grinning, staring at Marsha and not paying one bit of attention to me. Who could blame him? It was time to go to class and I could find out more later. Lunchtime came before I knew it. There was a group of us who always ate lunch together. And of course Scott would be there as usual so I'd have a chance to ask where he went to get the cut. I couldn't imagine he went down to the mall to his usual stylist, Kelly, who was not much older than we. I had never been to Kelly, but rather I'd go with my father to an old- fashioned barbershop. I liked my father's place, but I could definitely see the attraction to the place Scott went as well, namely Kelly and having her personal care. And besides the obvious benefits of Kelly, Scott was always very careful to keep his hair perfect. Or at least he used to be. Things had changed in the last 24 hours ÷ or so I thought. "Hey, bro', where'd you get your hair cut?" I asked Scott. "Keep it down, Kurt," Scott said. "Why? What's wrong?" I asked. "I don't want Marsha asking or knowing about where I went," Scott said. "Huh? What is it, some kind of deep dark secret?" "Yeah, as a matter of fact, I'd appreciate it if you would treat it that way," Scott said. "Ok. You know me, Scott. If you don't want me to tell anybody, then I won't." "All right, all right. I went to Bikini Beach Babes Barbershop," Scott said softly. I blurted out a laugh that could probably be heard all the way to the barbershop itself. Scott was really embarrassed as heads turned our way. I was trying to keep down the laughter, but it wasn't easy. "You went where?" I asked, trying to control my laughter. "You heard me," Scott said. I laughed even harder though not as loud. Heads were still turned our way. "Bikini Beach Babes Barbershop," I whispered softly laughing under my breath. "Is this for real?" "Yeah, it is," Scott said, motioning me to tone it down. "Ok, I won't tell anybody else," I said walking away, still laughing. That was definitely not Scott's normal stylist and it definitely wasn't the type of old- fashioned barbershop I was used to going to with my father. I could imagine the stylist Scott normally went to down in the mall in a bikini. That vision made me smile.

After a few minutes I regained my composure and came back. Everybody was there at the table by now and Jennifer asked me, "You're never late to lunch on purpose. Where have you been?" Jennifer is the very maternal type and didn't mean it in a nagging way. She probably had even begun to worry about me. "I had to make a telephone call," I said. I sat down between Jennifer and Scott at the table. I turned to Scott and said softly so as not to be overheard above the din in the cafeteria, "Now that I've thought about what you said, I understand completely." Scott just looked at me and nodded his head one time. After a moment Scott asked, "So when are you going?" "I just made the call to go tomorrow afternoon after school. Seems they're pretty booked up." Scott looked up me and grinned. "You'll understand why tomorrow afternoon. And they say you need an appointment and you'll get there and find out the appointment doesn't mean squat." That puzzled me and then I said, "And, Scott, same goes for no word to Jennifer, right?" Scott looked at me knowingly and nodded. Jennifer looked over at me and said, "What are you two whispering to each other about? You cooking up some kind of conspiracy?" "Nooo," we both intoned. No conspiracy, I thought, just a little bit of fun.

Thursday night I had the strangest dream I've ever had in my life. I was nervous enough about getting the haircut, but I became a bit worried about how I expressed my anxiety. I'm not normally into psychological mumbo-jumbo, but this dream even had me a bit worried. In the dream, I went to the barbershop expecting to see Kelly, the stylist Scott normally went to, dressed up in a bikini. That was a very pleasant expectation. So I went bounding through the door and what did I see? Mr. Rossi was smoking a cigar, puffing big rings of smoke, with a huge, long ash on the end of the cigar. All of this is normal for him. But what wasn't normal: He was dressed in a bikini. MR. ROSSI WAS WEARING A BIKINI! My jaw fell open and Mr. Rossi asked, "What, don't you like it? We thought we'd get more business this way, especially from you young guys." Mr. Giardini, who is about 100 pounds overweight, was also dressed up in a bikini. He motioned for me to come over and sit down in his chair, but I turned away to leave. My father, though, was right in back of me and won't let me leave. He had me by my arm and said, "Young man, you need a haircut. A real man's haircut." But his words weren't coming out at normal speed. It's as though a recording had been slowed down and then afterwards, everything else was moving really slowly too. My father turned me around as Mr. Giardini was getting up out of the chair and as he did, his big belly started to move up and down. And, as if this wasn't enough, Mr. Rossi's nephew, Rocco, who was training to be a boxer, came out of the back wearing boxing gloves and a bikini. That was it. I had to wake up now. And, fortunately, I did.

I had made an appointment for 4:30 on Friday afternoon to get my haircut at Bikini Beach Babes Barbers. I dropped off Jennifer at her house right after school was over, making plans for that evening at 7:00. After the dream the night before, I knew it couldn't be any worse than that nightmare, but I was still a combination of apprehension and exultation. The shop was just south of the local Marine Corps base. I had never been to the shop before even though it was only twenty minutes from where I lived. In fact, the whole area was unknown to me. I went in somewhat nervously not knowing what to expect. On the outside, the place was very nondescript. In fact, there is only a small sign identifying the place and the address printed in letters so small I couldn't see them from the other side of the street. When I went in though, it was a different world. It wasn't like the old- fashioned barber shop my dad would take me to and it wasn't like the antiseptic place at the mall. It was a mixture of jungle with all the plants, a collection of large-screen televisions and finally pictures up on the wall of various pop stars from the 1950's until the present. I'd never seen anything like it. There were eight chairs each with a sink with a woman in her 20's busy with guys getting their hair cut. Guess how these women were dressed? I got there right at 4:30, but it didn't seem to matter and the place was jammed. Appointment or not, I could tell I was going to be there for a while.

I took a seat on one of the sofas and waited my turn. Finally, about 5:30, one of the women came up to me and said "Jew, naixt." One of the other guys motioned for me to go on, so I got up out of the couch, which wasn't easy, and went and got into the chair. This woman was short and when I was seated her breasts were right at eye level as I was seated in what I thought was a low chair. So guess where my eyes were fixed? "How Jew wan?" she asked me. "How's that?" I asked. "How Jew wan?" she repeated. I shrugged my shoulders and she said, "Jew wan like heez?" and looked over at the guy to my right. That guy was getting a high and tight flattop that looked really sharp, so I said, "Sure." "Ok, muy alto," she said. Those were the first words from her mouth I had understood. Either she was going to cut my hair short or she was going to change the pitch of my voice if she was mad at me. I wasn't sure, but I thought she was probably going to give me a short haircut. She picked up the clippers and went to work. As she did, I watched her every move as she went to work. She was wearing a bikini top that was probably two sizes too small for her. When's the bikini top gonna pop, I was wondering. "Where Jew from?" she asked. I was finally figuring out that Jew meant you, which once I thought about it made sense if she had said "muy alto". So I said, "San Clemente". "I Argentina," she said proudly. "Argentina? That's a long way," I said. "Jes it is," she said. I laughed slightly and continued to watch the undulating orbs as they passed near the back of my head. When was it going to pop, I wondered.

She had finished off the back and sides and told me to get up and come over to the sink. I sat down at the sink and she leaned me forward and turned on the water to wet my hair. "I shampoo?" she asked and I had to say "Jes." I was expecting a reaction, including possible drowning, but there was none. She just worked and massaged the shampoo into my hair and she was very good. The only problem with being in this position was that I had a great view of the bottom of the sink, but little else. I could feel the Andean peaks brush past me a couple of times as she shampooed me. She rinsed my hair out and motioned for me to go back to the chair. By this time, I would have relented to any command she would give. I was more than willing as I got a much better view. In California, the view is everything! She took scissors and a comb and held my hair straight up and cut it off so that it was all about an inch and a half. Then she took the hair dryer and turned it on full blast and started combing my hair back. I wasn't paying a lot of attention to me, but was paying a lot of attention to her and the Andean peaks and kept wondering when it was going to blow. Next, she took clippers and comb and started leveling off the flattop. She was all concentration and then out of nowhere asked me, "What Jew think about?" And quickly I said, "Mountain climbing." "Jew too. Last man think same thing." I laughed slightly. She leveled off the top in an expert fashion and it was about as tight as it could be and still have a flattop. "How Jew like?" she asked, turning me around in the chair to view the flattop from various angles.. "It's great. Just what I wanted," I said.

Then she took her finger and from my temple down scraped and asked "I shave?" Oh, this was too much. She was asking to shave the side of my head. I saw several of the other guys around me having it done, so I said "Sure." I'd never had this done before, but was willing to try it. And besides, I was going to prolong the viewing of the orbs, I mean barber, at work. She got a warm, wet towel, and placed it on the side of my head and held it there for a couple of minutes. Then she lathered up the back and sides and shaved. When she had finished this she asked, "Anything else?" "No, that was great. How much do I owe you?" I asked getting up and walking with her over to the cash register. "Ten dollars," she said. I couldn't believe it. Ten dollars for that? I gladly paid the ten dollars and left a five dollar tip. As I was leaving the shop, one of the Marines asked me, "Hey, kid, how old are ya?" "Seventeen," I said. "Still too young for the Corps, huh? You do know you'll have to get your hair cut every week to keep it looking sharp." "No, but thanks for telling me," I said as I walked out contemplating having to undergo the full treatment every week wondering if I'd see Ms. Top Popper again next week. The next day, my father saw me and said, "Kurt, you've gotten a great haircut. I can't believe how much better you look. You had to have gone to an old-fashioned barber just like Mr. Rossi to get your hair cut like that." "Yeah, I like it too. What's more important is that Jennifer loves it. But I think I'll go to my own old-fashioned barbershop from now on by myself" I said and just looked at him and smiled.

Labels: SA

I always had a fascination with short haircuts, as far back as I can remember. As a kid I used to look through National Geographics for the pictures of kids in other countries with short haircuts, and best of all, with shaved heads. Being kind of naive about such things, I wondered how that kind of cut was done. One time there was a good side view photo of a lad with probably a week's regrowth from a shaved head. So I asked my dad whether he (the kid, that is) had had his head shaved, or what. He explained the situation and told me that when he was a boy, some of the kids used to get that kind of cut--"pineapple cuts" they called them. I guess my interest showed, because, out of the blue, he asked me if I would like to have a haircut like that. I stammered a bit, since the thought of getting my own hair cut off had never occurred to me. Finally I said something like "Sort of; I wonder what it would be like. But Mother wouldn't want me to, would she?" I got the usual parental non-committal, "We'll see. Not til summer, anyhow."

This was in the middle of the winter, and for an 8 year old, summer was forever away. However it gave a whole new dimension to my fantasies. My hair was a normal kid's cut for the time: 2-3 inches on the top, part thru my right hand cowlick, forelock that would touch my nose if I pulled it down, fair amount on the back and sides, but tapered down at the edges. I wondered how the barber would cut a pineapple.

Some time in the spring, I had wondered enough so I asked my dad. (I suspect that I must have partly had the motive of reminding him of the subject.) He explained the obvious, that the barber would just use the clippers he used on me around the edges, but use them all over my head. (This was a long time ago, and our barber hadn't switched to the newfangled electric clippers. He used the hand kind, that went scrunch-scrunch and pulled your hair a bit.) His use of the personal pronoun did not escape me--my head! Nothing more except mental exercises until towards the end of school. With about a week to go, my mother suggested that my father take me for a haircut, since I was getting pretty shaggy. He looked at me and at her, and said "Why don't we wait til after school is out."

It must have been the Saturday after school was over, since it was morning and Dad wasn't at work, Dad corralled me and we headed to the barber. On the way he asked me if I still wanted that pineapple cut? That brought me to attention! "But what will Mother say?" Dad, said," I told her. She wasn't too happy, but she says if that's what you really want, it's ok with her". I spent the rest of the trip in a mixture of excitement and panic. As we got out of the car, he asked me what I had decided. I couldn't talk, but I nodded. We had to wait for a couple of other customers, and I got more and more nervous. Another 5 minutes and I probably would have chickened out, but suddenly it was my turn.

As I climbed up into the big chair I heard my dad say the fatal words. I was expecting the barber to pick up his clippers, but instead, after fastening the cape around my neck he had his scissors and comb. "A baldy, huh?" he said. I nodded. He moved around to the back and started to lift the hair and cut it, sort of like he did with a regular cut, only it was not the rapid clip-clip-clip he usually did. Instead, there were a couple of bigger, louder snips with each lift of the comb. And he worked his way rapidly up the back of my head. After a couple of passes up the back he came around to the side and I realized what he was doing-the shears weren't above the comb, but under it, and he was hacking off big hunks of my blond hair with each snip. He worked his way right up to the part, and then moved around to the other side. When he was done there, he turned my head so I faced towards him. He pushed my head down and started the comb-snip-snip right up the middle. I was fascinated to see the hair that landed in my lap-it was so long! Never had that much hair come off in a haircut. In a minute he was done, and went over to the counter. I snuck my hand out from under the apron and felt of my head. There was hair here and there, and stubbly bits, but definitely much, much less than before.

And here he came with the clippers. And just as in my favorite fantasy, he started right up the middle of my head. The old hand clippers made sort of a "munch-munch" sound--nothing like the buzz or hum of the modern electric ones. And of course they went much slower. Clippers in one hand, the other firmly on the back of my head, pushing my chin down almost to my chest. All I could see was the cloth in my lap with the hunks of my hair lying there. From time to time a small tuft would drop down to join them--nothing like the long hunks that the shears had dropped. He made a bunch of passes over the top of my head and then went to work on the back. At that point I could get a peek in the mirror and see--a kid way over there in the chair with practically no hair. Frustrating, just like those National Geographic pictures--why didn't they take a closeup!

The whole cut didn't take more than 10 minutes, 'til he was dusting off my head with his brush. I remember that it felt funny. Then I was out of the chair and over to the mirror. Awesome! I really looked bald, except for a fine dusting of fuzz. And the bristly, sandpaper feel--that was a surprise-- I don't know what I was expecting it to feel like. I guess I just had never put the way it felt into my fantasy. My dad paid for my clipping and we headed back to the car. I looked for my reflection in every store window and car window that we passed. With the sun shining on me, I looked totally bald. As good as any of those National Geographic photos! Better, in fact, because I could reach up and rub it.

It seemed like I spent the next couple of days looking in the mirror and rubbing my head, but I must have done something else, since I got the start of a pretty good sunburn until Mom had me put on a cap. I got a real kick out of showing off my clipped head to a couple of my friends. The real disappointment was the realization that my hair was growing back! Again, I don't know what I expected, I guess I had never thought about it. After a week my head was covered with my blond fuzz, and I only looked shaved under a real bright light. After a couple of weeks, it was longer fuzz, but certainly not a 'pineapple' or a National Geographic special. I tried to persuade my folks to let me get a repeat clipping, but to no avail. We were going to visit Grandma, or something. The only consolation was the promise of another pineapple the next summer.

Labels: SA

I had started about six month ago to cut my own hair. Since I was wearing it kind of short, it was easy to do with my clipper set and the right set of mirrors in the bathroom. Last night I got home late after work, tired and stressed. I needed to relax, so I went and took a shower. Toweling off, I watch myself in the mirror and decided to cut my hair. It had been three weeks since the last cut and it was getting kind of long. So I got out the clippers, put on the #2 attachment and buzzed the sides and back to 1/4", then went with the longest a #6 to buzz the top to 5/8". Pretty conservative, but with me being in customer service and on the sales floor all day, I didn't dare to go shorter. The only thing left was to shave my neck, since both sides were growing kind of weird and into all directions. So I would shave it rounded following the contour of my head. A little water, a little shaving cream and I was set to start. And then the door bell rang. "Who is it?" I yelled. "It's me, Brian."

Brian was a good friend of mine, a former co-worker, that had stayed in contact. And for the last three month, I had also cut his hair, buzzed to 1/8". I opened the door. "Hey, man. Great timing. You can help me shave that darn hair in my neck. I already did the rest, so you can finish it up." "Sure, no problem. And I came by to ask you to cut my hair anyways." "As soon as you've done your job" I said and walked straight back into the bathroom. I sat done on the little stool and put a towel over my shoulders. Then I handed Brian the razor and told him to go for it. He pushed my head a little forward and we started shaving. I looked ino the drain and onto the cut hair laying in there. Good he came by tonight, I thought. Nice to have somebody do the neckshave for you, so I don't have to fizzle with the razor in one hand and the mirror in the other. And its only gonna be one cleanup after I buzz Brian's hair. "Okay" he said, "I'm done", while he rinsed out the razor one more time. I took the mirror to take a look at my clean shaved neck, when I recognized that Brian had shaved half way up the back of my head. "What did you do?" I asked in disbelieve. "What", he said. " I only shaved where there was shaving cream" I had forgotten that I had just put a handful of cream back there, not just on the parts I wanted to shave. I should have told him to only shave the corner parts.

If you ask a friend for help, you better tell him what you want done. There was not much that could have been done now, so I decided to go for a high'n'tight. We buzzed the sides and back with no attachment and Brian shaved it all off. When I saw the finished cut in the mirror, I really liked it. Brian felt kind of bad about the whole thing, but I told him, that if you ask a friend for help, it might turn out better than you think. So Brian sat down on the stool. I put a towel over his shoulders and was staring at my new do in the mirror, putting on the 1/8" attachment when Brian said: "No attachment needed tonight. I wanna go all the way. And keep the razor handy for that smooth finish."

Labels: SA

As a kid I always went to the same barber that my dad went to. Pretty conservative, regular boy’s haircuts. I don’t know what kind of short cut he would have done, since mom wouldn’t have approved. Finally, in high school, I started to get it cut shorter, but for some reason, I felt I had to switch shops. So I started going to Ben, in the next town. The shop was right on the main street of the village; a two chair shop with one barber, and not many customers. Ben was a little Italian man, with a lot of accent left from the old country. I really don’t think he was a terribly good barber, but he sure liked to use the clippers. You learned, with Ben, not to tell him how much to cut, but what NOT to cut. Violate the rule at your risk!

At first I didn’t change styles all that much; got the back a good bit shorter and got the top down to a couple of inches. At school, I was under a lot of peer pressure to get a brushcut. (I was considered to be a look-alike of another guy, one of the jocks, who had one, and there was a lot of kidding, trying to get me to look more like him.) One of my friends who was pushing me was a guy with the kind of hair the girls would have killed for - bright blond, wavy and fairly long. Finally, I gave in and told him I would get mine cut if he did. Figured I was safe, but darned if he didn't do it! Not a brushcut, but a lot shorter than it was.

So off I went to Ben's. I wasn’t going to get a brushcut - mom s influence was still too strong - but it was going to be close to it. Throwing caution to the winds, but still sticking to the rule, I told him to cut the back like a brushcut, but leave just enough to comb over in the front. He went at it with a vengeance. I think the back was probably something like a #2. As to leaving enough in the front to comb over, he did that - just. The front 2 or 3 inches were just long enough to lay down with a bit of persuasion, but only one direction. Ben took care of that by running the clippers right along the part line. I guess today you would call what I wound up with an Ivy League, but a real short one.

It was quite a sensation for a guy who had wanted to do this his whole life. I couldn't stop looking at it and feeling of it. Of course the kidding intensified at school, but I kept the cut. After graduation I went the rest of the way and got the brushcut which I kept thru college.

My last adventure with Ben was the summer after college. I had got a little braver over the years, and the brushcut had got a little shorter. My instructions to Ben were “cut the back and sides good and short, but leave some on top in the front”. This resulted in a crewcut with probably a #1 blade (no attachment) on the back up onto the crown, tapering to maybe 1/2” or 3/4” in the front. Ben did 3 or 4 of these cuts on me in the course of the summer. As I said, he had few customers and knew me perfectly well. So the next time I climbed into the chair, I forgot the rule, and didn’t repeat the instructions, figuring he knew what he had been giving me. Well, he started up the back as usual, and then onto the crown, clipping this way and that. I realized that he was getting a bit farther front than usual and was just about to say something when I felt the clippers make a pass right across the front of my head. No point in saying anything now! With my blond hair, I looked really bald with my 1/8” buzzcut.

I loved the feel of that clip, but I was off to grad school in the fall, so when I went back in 3 weeks, I was careful to follow the rule and tell him to leave the front. I think that was the last time I was ever in Ben’s shop. Ben has certainly retired and may well have passed on by now, but I can still feel the incredible sensation of those clippers chewing their way across the front of my head. I’ve had a lot of buzzcuts since, but none as memorable as that first surprise cut one hot August morning.

Labels: SA

Chris was shocked by what he saw as his father and brother got out of the car. Chris 13, and his brother Danny 10, had worn their blonde hair long for as long as Chris could remember. Danny's bowlcut had always reached to at least the middle of his ears, and Chris's was always way below the bottom of his ears. As Chris watched Danny get out of the car, his attention was focused on Danny's hair, or lack of it. Danny was bald! Chris would learn later that Danny's hair had been cut in an 1/8' buzzcut, but to him it was bald.

When their father had arrived home from work he decided that Danny was in need of a haircut. He and Danny had arrived at the Barbershop with the intention of getting Danny's bowlcut trimmed up a bit. The shop was crowded so they would have to wait for a while. While they waited several other boys, around Danny's age, had gotten their heads buzzed. As Danny watched, he became fascinated with the thought of sitting in the chair, and watching as the barber ran the clippers over his head and reduced his hair to stubble. Before he realized what was happening, Danny was asking his father if he could get his hair cut like the other boys. His father, surprised by the request, was reluctant at first to say yes but soon gave permission for his son to be buzzed. When Danny' s turn finally arrived, he made his way to the chair and sat down. The barber fastened the cape around his neck and asked him how he wanted his hair cut. Danny immediately replied that he wanted it cut like the other boys. The barber turned to Danny's father and asked "You want it all cut off, like the other boys?" Danny's father replied "Yes", and the barber turned to begin his work. Before Danny realized what was happening, the barber had turned on the clippers and was running them down the center of his head starting at his forehead. As Danny watched, his long blonde hair was slowly replaced by a barely there micro stubble. In less than five minutes, the barber was turning the clippers off. He grabbed a large brush, and brushed Danny's head with it. Before removing the cape from around him, the barber ran his hand over Danny's head and asked "So, how do you like your baldy?" Danny reached up, rubbed his head, and declared that it was 'awesome'.

At dinner that night, the conversation mostly centered around Danny's new haircut. At a pause in the conversation, Chris's mother took the opportunity to remind his father that Chris was in need of a haircut too. Chris's father took over the conversation, "That's right, he does doesn't he. I tell you what Chris, I'll take you to the barber on Saturday and how about we get your haircut just like Danny's." "Well, to tell you the truth, I like my hair long." replied Chris. "Nonsense," his mother said, "you've had that long hair long enough, its time to get a nice short haircut, especially since its going to be a long, hot, summer." "It's settled", his father said, "Saturday you get a nice baldy like your brother!"

The next day, all Chris could think about was what it was going to be like to sit in the chair at the barbershop and watch the barber shear his long blonde hair to stubble, the thought of it made Chris extremely nervous. He didn't want his hair all cut off, but he wasn't going to have any choice in the matter.

After another day of trying to imagine what he was going to look like with his hair shorn away to near baldness, it was time for Chris's trip to the barbershop. Chris stood in the bathroom combing his hair for the last time, as his father called from downstairs to get a move on. His mother passed the bathroom, and seeing Chris stopped to talk to him. As she entered the bathroom, she reached out and ran her hand through his hair. Chris sighed, and combed his hair again. "Well," his mother said, "In a little while you won't have to worry about me messing up your hair anymore." "No" ,Chris thought, "we certainly won't." "Relax Chris", his mom continued, "you're going to look great with your hair buzzed short. Now, your father's waiting, better get in the car now or he may have the barber really shave your head bald." Chris finished combing his hair, and made his way downstairs and into the car for the drive to the barbershop.

When they arrived at the barbershop, all six barbers were working on customers, and the shop was standing room only. "Great", Chris thought, "there's no way dad will ever wait this long for me to get my haircut, I'm safe for another week." "Well", his dad said, "guess were going to have a little bit of a wait before you get in the chair." As they stood, and than finally sat and waited, Chris was treated to the sight of several other boys getting crewcuts for the summer. Watching the barber make pass after pass with the clippers over the boys heads only made Chris more nervous, knowing that his turn was coming. After what seemed like forever, a barber called "Next" and it was Chris's turn.

Chris nervously made his way to the chair and sat down. His father stood to the side as the barber snapped the striped cape around Chris. "So" asked the barber, "how are we cutting this young mans hair today?" Chris's father spoke "Give him a baldy, 1/8" all around." "That's pretty short, you sure about this?" the barber replied. Chris father nodded and said "Time to get rid of all that long hair for the summer, at least!" "OK," said the barber, "One baldy, coming up!" The barber grabbed his clippers and, after looking through a variety of blades, found what he was looking for and snapped them on the clippers. He turned to Chris and placed a hand on top of his head, as the clippers came to life, Chris jumped. "Relax" the barber said, "Just sit there, relax, and enjoy it, you will be bald before you know it." As he finished speaking the barber pushed the clippers across the top of Chris's head. Chris couldn't believe how much hair was falling around him, and this was only the beginning! As Chris watched, the barber used a comb to clear away the hair that had been cut by the first pass of the clippers. Chris's eyes opened wide as he realized that he had a bald strip down the center of his head. The barber continued working, and each pass made the bald strip wider and sent more hair raining down on the cape and floor. After finishing shearing the top of his head, the barber was ready to work on the sides and back. All at once, Chris was facing the waiting customers behind him as the barber made short work of the rest of his hair.

After a few minutes of buzzing, the clippers were turned off, and the barber removed the cape and shook the hair onto the floor. The barber brushed off Chris's head, and placed his hands on his shoulders. "Ready to see the new you, son?" The barber said. "Yea, I guess so" Chris replied. The barber spun the chair around, and Chris was staring in the mirror at a boy with almost no hair. His blonde hair had been sheared to a uniform 1/8' stubble. Chris reached up and felt his head, instead of the mop of long hair he was used to feeling, his hand was met by the feel of sandpaper and scalp. Chris secretly thought that it actually felt pretty cool. He soon felt his father's hand rubbing his newly buzzed head. "Now that is a definite improvement." As Chris climbed out of the chair, his father paid for the haircut and gave the barber a generous tip.

After arriving home, his mother and brother couldn't help but rub his head every time they passed. Chris said nothing, put he had already decided that he would let his hair grow back after the summer. That was his plan until a few days later, when he was getting ready to go out to dinner with his parents. Chris had taken a shower, and in the process, realized that he didn't have to use quite so much shampoo on his head anymore. After getting out of the shower, he toweled off his head like he usually did and made a surprising summary. His hair was basically dry after just one pass with the towel, he no longer had to worry about getting out the hair dryer and making sure his hair was dry before he could leave the house, (a pet peeve of his mother's). Chris looked in the bathroom mirror, rubbed his head, and decided that he really did like his buzzed head after all, although he probably wouldn't tell his parents just yet.

Labels: SA

[A continuation of The Hacker, from the other point of view.]

I was awakened by the pain of my wrists clanging against the bed posts and I suddenly realized someone was sitting on my back. "WHAT THE HELL," I yelled, but it was useless since my head was pushed down into the pillow. I struggled a bit, but it too was useless. The adrenoline was pumping through me. What was going on? Then, I heard a voice. I recognized it, but I wasn't sure whose it was. He was trying to disguise his voice by lowering it a couple of octaves. Nevertheless, there was still a very identifiable Texas drawl there. That only narrowed it down to about half the guys in the dorm. The dorm was locked at night, so it had to be somebody from the dorm. Who was this and what did they want? My heart was racing.

He was still on top of me and pushed something into my back. It wasn't painful, but he told me it was a knife. Yeah, right. It was not a knife or else it was the bluntest knife in the world. That didn't mean, however, that whatever it was, it couldn't hurt if pushed hard enough and I knew it. So I calmed down a bit. So, what is going on? Is this some fag trying to rape me? God, I hope not. At any rate, I decided to cooperate at least until I saw an opening of some kind and then there would be hell to pay. I was frightened, but it was under control. He let my head up slightly out of the pillow, but slipped a gag around my mouth. Then he loosened my wrists and legs from the bed, got up off of me and sat me up. He told me several times he wasn't going to hurt me, but I wasn't absolutely convinced of this.

All the time, he was in control. I started to flex, but wham, he tightened the ropes and said again, "Look, I am not here to hurt you. You cooperate and you are going to enjoy this. I know you will." That was a relief. I finally began to believe everything might be ok. He pushed me down into the chair by my desk and tied me there. The lights came on and I could see him for the first time as he came back from the light switch by the door. This was the first mistake he had made, I thought. I could actually see him. He was wearing a hood with eye holes poked through. He was tall, over six feet, and thin. Well, that narrowed it down to about ten guys in the dorm. Who was this and what did he have in mind?

It then became clear what he had in mind. He picked up my hair with one hand, the scissors with the other and began snipping away. He was telling me my hair basically looked like shit and that this was going to be a big improvement. This was really a relief. This was a fantasy of mine come to life, to tell you the truth. Man, oh, man. Nobody knew this because I had never expressed it except over the internet. Who was this guy? How did he figure it out? He was pretty clever, I thought, whoever he is.

He had fun snipping and clipping and finally shaving. I could tell he did. I did too. I couldn't see the clock from where I was seated and I'm not a great estimator of time, but I guess it lasted for ten to fifteen minutes. I had totally calmed down now.

Well, he finally finished and he rubbed his hand over my head. Man, was it clean or what. He said, "I do a pretty good job, don't I?" I had to agree and shook my head slowly, involuntarily. I stopped when I realized what a dork I was for doing that. He just laughed. "Look, I'm going to take the gag off now. But don't you say a word, okay?" I shook my head in agreement again. He then put aftershave lotion on my head and now it was really slick. He loosened the ropes slightly and went over to the lights, shut them off and slipped out the door.

I struggled to get free of the ropes, rushed over to the door, opened it slightly and looked out. I could see somebody going back into his room down at the end of the hall, though I only caught a glimpse from behind. Let's see, is that Mike's room or Peter's. I wasn't sure. Both were tall and thin, so I wasn't sure. No way to know unless I walked down there, which is what I did. It was Mike's room. It figures. Mike's got an absolutely perfect high and tight flattop. He would get into divesting a long-haired guy of his locks. Oh, am I going to have some fun with him I thought as I tip-toed back to my room. So Mikey had made his second and his really big mistake. I knew who had some fun with me. Revenge is a tasty morsel best served cold!

When I got back to my room, I switched on the lights and noticed it was half past five. And what a mess. I picked up the hair and it filled the trash can. Time to go back to bed. Funny thing is, I hadn't locked the door.

Labels: SA

My first buzzcut was a haircut that I will never forget. It was totally unplanned, (by me anyhow) and I inadvertently aided in it being much shorter than even my parents had envisioned.

Last year, my older sister started beauty school, and my parents decided that it would be a good idea (and save money) if my brother and I helped her out by allowing her to cut our hair. My brother being 9 years old, didn't mind at all. I on the other hand, being 13, objected immediately. Objections or not, I was soon seated on a stool as my sister trimmed up the bowl cut that I had sported for several years. This went on for several months, and than came the summer that I will never forget.

Shortly after school ended, it was time for my brother and I to have our hair cut for the summer. For me that usually meant having the sides and back of my bowl cut buzzed a little closer, and the top trimmed up to the top of my ears. My parents ,however, had a different cut in mind. Over the last few weeks of school they had made no secret of the fact that my brother would be getting a crewcut for the summer. He wasn't thrilled with the idea, but there wasn't much he could do about it either. They also had been strongly suggesting that I think about getting one too. I thought about it for about five minutes and promptly decided against it. The subject was dropped, or so I thought. I would learn later that they had already told my sister that she was to give me a crewcut too.

As the end of school neared, two of my friends showed up with crewcuts. Although they looked pretty cool with their stubbly heads, I still didn't think that was the cut for me. Several other friends came to school on the last day with their bowlcuts freshly cut for the summer. They had the back and sides buzzed with a #0 attachment. As soon as I saw them, I knew that I had to have mine cut the same way. Unfortunately, as it turned out my #0 wouldn't be just the back and sides.

About a week after school closed, my parents announced that it was time for us to get haircuts. My brother, still not happy with the prospect of being bald for the summer, tried in vain to convince our parents that he should just get a trim, or at least be allowed to keep his hair a few days more. My parents would hear none of it. We were both getting haircuts tonight!

We waited in the kitchen and watched as my sister assembled the necessary tools, scissors, combs, stool, cape and of course the electric clippers with its array of blades. When she was ready, she pointed to my brother and said "OK, Your first, time to be a baldy." My brother protested again but the rebellion was quietly and quickly squashed by a look from our mother. Resigned to a crewcut that he didn't want, he slowly climbed on the stool. My sister wasted no time in throwing the sheet around him. She quickly picked up the clippers, which had been fitted with the #2 blade, and snapped them on. She placed her hand on his head to steady it, and as she moved the clippers toward his head announced "one baldy, coming up." My brother squirmed slightly and my sister told him to sit still. In seconds, she had passed the clippers down the center of his head, leaving a swath of 1/4" stubble where his blonde hair had been. "There's no turning back now," She announced as she continued to make pass after pass over his head. Each pass of the clippers cut away more of his blonde hair, leaving him with a stubble that was hard to tell was there despite it's 1/4" length.

As I sat watching the entire spectacle I quietly was laughing at my brothers misfortune, not knowing that I was to be next, and even balder than him. As my sister finished shearing my brother, he got his first look at his new haircut. I thought for a minute he was going to cry, but he managed to fight back tears as he thanked my sister for "such a nice haircut." He watched silently as my sister gathered up his hair from the floor, and dumped it in the trash. He started to leave the kitchen but my mother whispered something to him and he took the seat next to me again.

I reached over and rubbed the stubble on his head, "nice baldy," I said as I continued to rub. Just then my sister called for me. I wasted no time in taking my seat on the stool. I was going to look so cool with my sides and back buzzed to a #0. As my sister changed blades on the clipper I reminded her. "Remember, #0 on the sides and back and trim the top to the top of my ears. Without looking at me she told me she knew how I was getting my haircut. Ready to begin cutting, my sister showed me the blade on the clippers which, I could plainly see, was the #0. She snapped the clippers on and pushed my head to the right. Without warning she ran the clippers up the left side of my head, taking that side of my head down almost to the skin. She continued around the back, pushing my head forward, and than to the right side of my head, pushing my head to the left. With the sides and back clipped almost to the skin, it was time to trim the top. I was waiting for the clippers to stop, when she walked directly in front of me and began examining the sides of my head from the front. I moved, and she told me to hold still, that she was trying to make sure the sides were cut even. The clippers were poised directly in front of me, at the center of my forehead. In an instant, she placed her hand on my head to steady it, and pushed the clippers across the top of my head. In shock, I tried to move, but realized that would only make things worse.

I yelled "What are you doing?" "Oh No!", she said, with fake surprise, "I slipped". From behind me I heard my mother say "Well, guess you better shave the rest of it off." "Yea" agreed my brother, "Better make him a baldy too." My sister just smiled at me as she said "You wanted me to use the #0." "Yea", I agreed "But not on my whole head." My sister ignored my remarks and set to work shearing the rest of the hair from my head. I sat in silence as I watched great hunks of hair falling on the cape and floor. It only took four or five swipes with the clippers and she was done. Pulling the cape off me, I took a last look at all my hair as it lay on the floor. My sister handed me a mirror, and began to clean up the mess of hair. It took a few seconds before I could bring myself to look in the mirror. When I did, I was shocked at what I saw. The #0 had left me all but bald, and the shortness was exaggerated by my blonde stubble. I reached up to feel it and was surprised at how short it was.

My brother broke the silence when he suddenly rubbed my head and declared "nice baldy." After rubbing my head, he reached up and felt his own. He apparently liked the way mine felt better, because he turned to my sister and asked if she could make him bald like me. She looked at our mother who thought for a minute and said "Go ahead, if that's what you really want." In a split second, he was back on the stool and my sister was running the clippers with the #0 blade over his head. When he was done, he thought his head felt really cool.

When my friends first saw me with my newly shorn head, they laughed and called me baldy and cueball. However, over the next few weeks, something strange started to happen. Most of the kids who were calling me names started showing up with the same #0 buzz. That's when I realized that I must not look so bad with a #0 buzz after all.

My brother and I kept our #0's for the entire summer. We now both sport #2 buzzes, and I can't wait for the summer when I can get a #0 again.

Labels: SA

"I have considered your appeal of the punishment that was imposed. What you did was serious--you put yourselves at risk and damaged the reputation of the institution. Six weeks total 'grounding' would certainly get your attention, but I think it is not completely appropriate. You need some physical and social activities, or I am afraid you may get in further trouble. So I will offer you an alternative. It's 1:15 now, and I have meetings till 3.

"If you want the grounding lifted, be back here at 3:30 with your heads shaved--really shaved. And plan to keep them shaved for the whole six weeks. You don't have to do this. It's your decision, but it's both of you or neither. Everything you need is in the box." Mr. Jamieson paused and reached behind him for a cardboard box and handed it to Mark. Mark and Jon stared at Mr. Jamieson for a moment until he waved them out of the office. "Great alternative," muttered Jon as they walked across the quad towards their dorm. "Should we do it?" said Mark as he looked in the box. "I guess he really means shaved-there's clippers and a razor in here. It'll grow back, I guess, but he said we had to keep doing it. What do you think?"

Jon had the longer hair of the two; down to his collar in back and really long on top. He parted it off center, but one brown lock was forever falling in his eyes, so he had a good case of the "twitch", where he tossed his head to the side to toss the hair out of his face. If the truth be told, he was very vain about his hair; shampooed it daily and spent a lot of time with the drier and comb every morning. "No way I'm gonna! Old Jamieson can stuff it!"

Mark stopped by the mirror as they walked into their room. His dirty blond hair was pretty long too; he had been meaning to get a haircut any day now for the past two months. He pushed his hair back with his hands and tried un-successfully to visualize what he would look like without it. Memories came past of the summer brushcuts when he was much younger-the cool bristly feeling. These weren't 'forced" or 'punishment' cuts--just something you did in the summer. "What the hell! Lets do it--it beats being cooped up in this room for a month and a half."

"You can, if you want, but not me. I don't want to look like a geek." "Well, you have the choice of looking like a geek (though I don't think you will) and looking like your old hairy self with nobody else to look at you, except me, and I'm going to get pretty sick of it. Come on, Jon, it's just hair. Think of all we'll miss stuck in this room for a month and a half."

Jon ran his fingers through his hair, futily pushing it out of his eyes. "We'll look like a pair of aliens if we do it."

Mark noted the slight shift in Jon's position and pressed the attack. He had decided that his hair could go-he wanted his freedom, and he just had to convince Jon. The conversation went back and forth for a while, with Jon slowly and reluctantly abandoning his "no way" attitude. Finally Mark said "Look, we've got to do it now! We are supposed to be back in Jamieson's office at 3:30. We can't keep on talking about it. Get over here and sit down."

Jon got up off his bed and looked at himself in the mirror for a long minute, then sat down in the desk chair in front of Mark. Mark took the plastic apron out of the box and hooked it around Jon's neck and plugged in the clippers. They were the vibrator type with an adjustment lever on the side. Mark pushed the lever all the way up and switched them on. Jon sort of jumped at the sound, and then closed his eyes. Mark surveyed the territory, deciding where to start. Then he ran his fingers across Jon's forehead and lifted up the lock of hair that was always in his eyes. He had often wondered why Jon didn't do something about it; well he was going to do something about it. He put the humming clipper blades against Jon's forehead and slid them back until the lock of hair came off in his hand. It seemed even longer than when it was attached.

"Here you go, Jon," he said, dropping it in his lap "No more hair in your eyes." Therewas now a patch of tiny crisp stubble on Jon's head through which his pink scalp showed. Mark put the clippers back and pushed them over the patch again, going back a couple of inches farther. The patch expanded between the severed ends of Jon's long hair. He ran his fingers over Jon's head, gathering up the loose hair and feeling the stubble. He was starting to enjoy this a great deal.

Gradually he worked his way back along the part line, clipping and lifting off what the clippers had cut. Soon he had a wide bare swath extending all the way from the front to the crown of Jon's head, below his part, and Jon's lap was getting full of the hunks of hair that were falling away. Mark moved around to the side, slipped the clippers in under the hair in front of Jon's ear, and steadily pushed them up 'til they came out in the stubble on top. He moved a little faster now and after a few passes the whole side of the head was stubble. The contrast between the closely cropped bristles and the long hair on the rest of Jon's head was startling.

The next cut was a long one from front to back, widening the bare swath by half an inch or so. The cut hair didn't fall away, but mostly just lay there, the cut ends, no longer attached, lifting away from the scalp. Mark alternated long narrow cuts with sweeping away the cut hair, enjoying the sensation of running his fingers over the stubble until the top of Jon's head was bare. Then around to the other side and the clippers ran up the side, again and again, working their way back and across the back. Finally it was all gone, except for one great long lock coming from just below the crown, that Mark had saved for last. He ran his fingers over the stubble to surround this last bit and slid his hand out along the hair, holding it away from Jon's head, ran the clippers across where it was attached, and dropped it in Jon's lap. He rubbed his hand over Jon's clippered head. "Done! How's it feel?" Mark took the apron off, dumping the hair on the tiled floor in a great heap.

Reluctantly Jon put his hand to his head, habitually making the motion to sweep the hair out of his eyes, and encountered nothing but bristles. He rubbed his hand over his head and got up to look in the mirror. "God, it looks different! I don't recognize myself."

"And you get to have it shaved really bald, don't forget!"
"After I use the clippers on you," said Jon, motioning Mark towards the chair. Mark, who by this time wasn't at all reluctant, went to the wall mirror and lifted it down. He propped it up on his desk and pushed the chair in front of it. "I want to watch this," he said.

Jon snapped on the clippers and started them up the side of Mark's head in front of his ear. He pushed them steadily upwards, past the corner and onto the top of his head. The hunks of hair fell away, burying the clippers and Jon's hand. He pulled the clippers and most of the cut hair away leaving the bare scalp. With Mark's blond hair, the stubble was less visible so the swath looked really bare. Jon repeated the pass, moving back along the side of his head, running the clippers up and about a third of the way across the top. In a moment the right side of Mark's head was clipped. Mark turned his head so he could see the damage and pulled his hand out to feel of his head. Jon slapped him away, "You can play with it when I'm done." Jon ran his hand over his own head, feeling the crisp stubble, and then returned to his work.

He came around to the left side and repeated the process, clipping away the hair, longer this time because of being on the other side of Mark's part. The clippers had heavy going in Mark's heavy hair, but in a few minutes his head was clipped, except for an inch-wide strip down the center that was the original length. Jon asked, "How do you like your Mohawk? It's a little long to stand up ."

Mark, who had been thoroughly enjoying the performance, got his hand out and pushed the long hair straight back down the center of his head. "There, that looks more like it, but you're right, it's too long. Better do something about it."

"Happy to oblige", said Jon as he dropped the clippers onto Mark's forehead and slowly pushed them back, plowing the short-lived Mohawk right off the back. The apron came off and Mark's blond hair joined the heap on the floor. Mark rubbed his bristles as he studied his new look in the mirror. "Really different, but not bad," he thought. He went to the box and pulled out the can of shaving cream and the razor. "Round two!" he announced. Jon looked at himself in the mirror and felt of his stubbly scalp."I wish we could leave it like this. This isn't as bad as I thought it would be, but I'm not sure about being really bald"

"Well, you don't have a choice. We've got this far; we can't quit."

Jon shrugged and sat down; Mark laid down a good squirt of lather on Jon's head and rubbed it into the stubble, leaving a thin layer all over. He let it sit for a few minutes while he went to fill a plastic pot with water. He clicked in a new blade and set the razor down on Jon's forehead."Here goes nothing!"

"Make that 'here goes everything'" said Jon as Mark pulled the razor back through the soapy stubble. The razor could go an inch or so before it started to clog and had to be rinsed. Mark laid down carefully overlapping swaths and marched the razor down the center of Jon's scalp. The brown fuzz vanished as did the bristly feel, leaving smooth skin in the blade's wake. The new blade cut smoothly with no pulling and in little time the whole top of Jon's head was smooth. Mark turned his attention to the sides and back, shaving upwards against the way the hairs grew. It all took maybe 5 minutes. Mark wiped off the last of the shaving cream with Jon's washcloth and inspected his work. A couple of places where a bit of stubble had escaped got a bit more cream and a swipe with the razor, and Mark pronounced his victim finished. Jon's head was smooth and hairless, with a bit of a shine. There was a bit of a color contrast between the newly shaved scalp and the rest - the shadow of the dark hair below the surface. Jon looked in the mirror and ran his hands over his skull, "It feels like smooth skin! Hell, of course it does--I don't know what I was expecting."

"Well, get used to it. Better do me, its getting late." Mark picked up the shaving cream and squirted a pile on the top of his head as he sat down. He liked the feeling of Jon's fingers working it into the stubble, and the sound and feel of the fresh blade as it scraped over his head. It was all he could do to keep from leaning into the razor to make it cut still closer. Mark was almost sorry when Jon announced that he was finished. He took a good look at himself in the mirror and liked what he saw. Being blond, there was no visible trace of where the hair had been; even the transition from tan to no tan was gradual because his hair had been so long. His head was well shaped and looked good bald, he thought. The coolness and the ability to feel every breath of air was awesome.

The two walked back to the Administration building, drawing a variety of responses from the people they met: startled looks, amused looks, fascination. Jon felt embarrassed, but Mark, being more of an extrovert, got a kick out of it. Mr. Jamieson looked up and grinned as they walked into his office. "So you did it! I would have only given 50 - 50 odds. Ok, the grounding is lifted, but those heads get shaved every morning for the next six weeks. That should serve as a daily reminder of what happened. And stay out of trouble. Ok?"

Jon & Mark nodded and left the office. As they walked back Jon grumbled "We've got to stay bald for a month and a half. That's going to seem like forever."

Mark ran his hand over his head. "Yeah!" he said, and continued under his breath "and maybe forever isn't such a bad idea!"

Labels: SA

So he wandered off to the barbershop, having finally made his decision to get the haircut his parents bugged him about. Upon opening the door to Rudy's, the drone of the clippers and clicking of the scissors made him tremble; was he doing the right thing? Rudy looked up over his bifocals, and told Tom to take a seat, he was next, and that it was just a minute or two until he finished up on the seven year old he was working on. Tom sat down, looking over the other patrons, picked up a copy of Reader's Digest, and as he looked over its table of contents, he heard Rudy bellow, "Next!"

Tom's eyes jumped up from the page suddenly, and fixated on an empty barber chair in front of which stood Rudy, the grayed and old barber who had been in this town since he was twenty and just out of the Army. Rudy was performing some perfunctory duties, like brushing the cut hair that had fallen into the chair, and shaking out the cape that was about the be draped over Tom. He carefully placed the Reader's Digest back on the table to his left and slowly rose and made his way toward Rudy's chair.

"You ain't been in here for a while," Rudy noted looking at Tom's hair, which had begun curling in the back. "Why you stay away so long, boy?"

Tom looked into the mirror and he saw Rudy's reflection as he made his way into the chair. "Well, y'know, I've kind of been letting it grow and besides, I prefer it this way." Tom sat down in the chair, bouncing a little as he did. Rudy quickly shook out the cape again, wrapping it around Tom but leaving it loose at the neck. He picked up this sheet of what looked like tissue paper, wrapped it tightly around Tom's neck to prevent the hair from falling down his shirt, and then tightened the cape around his neck. Rudy briskly ran his hands through Tom's hair, making a tsk tsk sound as he did. "Needs cuttin'," and he reach for his clippers. Rudy had several of these red attachments, which fit over the clipper blade to alter how much hair is cut. He picked up one big one, nodded, put it down, and picked up a smaller one and attached it to the clippers. "I guess you'll be wanting it a little shorter, eh?" he asked. Tom was not comfortable at all, and he nodded yes. And within seconds, that drone of the clippers was right on Tom's right ear. "We'll fix you up," Rudy said, wasting no time. The clippers made their way from the nape of Tom's neck up the back of his head. In the mirror, Tom could see locks of hair falling onto his shoulder, as Rudy whisked those clippers up and down, up and down, across the back of his head. Rudy pushed Tom's head forward and seemed to press deeper with the clippers as he ran them over the back of his head a second time. In a few seconds, Rudy turned them off, headed up to the mirror where he brushed them free of the hair that had been collected.

While Rudy's back was to him, Tom reached and felt the now naked back of his head. It felt like his face did when he hadn't shaved for a day or two stubbly and course. There was no turning back now. This was going to be one very short haircut. Tom looked at himself in the mirror. He could see no change. The hair that had been shorn was all in the back, and what he saw in his reflection was what he saw when he first sat in that dreaded chair. The hair was still long on top, a little in his eyes from when Rudy ran his hand through it, and hanging slightly over his ears on the&endash; &endash;side. Rudy changed blade attachments putting on a slightly bigger one, and returned to finish the job. He had lit a cigarette, which hung low from his mouth as if gravity were pulling it down. The smoke made its way straight up, often getting in his eyes and making him squint, but apparently didn't bother him enough to put it out. "Okay, let's go here," he said, turning on the clippers and racing them up the right side of Tom's head. Rudy angled Tom's head to the left making it easier to work. With a couple of quick upward motions, Tom's ears were no longer covered and his scalp clearly visible. As Rudy walked behind Tom to get to the other side, Tom saw the change in the mirror, and his eyes opened wide. There wasn't even enough time to react: Rudy pushed Tom's head to the right side and was cutting off the hair on the left. And in what seemed like seconds, it was gone. Before Tom had time to inspect the damage, Rudy was in front of Tom, pushing his head back a little, and running the clippers over his head. Wafts of long brown hair began falling around Tom, and he wondered how it would all end? The clippers whirred with every swath they made on his crown, and Tom wondered if Rudy hadn't already cut quite enough?

"I think it's short enough," he ventured.

"Just another minute and we'll be done," Rudy corrected, balancing the cigarette at the corner of his mouth as he spoke.

And it was done. The clippers were off, and as Rudy pulled them away Tom saw tufts of thick brown hair hanging from them. Rudy brushed them clean, removed the attachment, and hung the clippers on their little hook. Tom's eyes quickly darted to the image of him in the mirror and he froze.

His hair was now short and neat. On the top, where it had once hung just over his eyes, it was bristly and thin, like a Marine; and his scalp was plainly visible in the light of the barbershop. He reached up to touch it and it felt prickly. He could not take his eyes off himself. It was a different Tom. He had seen haircuts this short before, like when soldiers from the base in the next town drove by, and when his friend Gary came back after basic training, and when his brother Clay came home following a fraternity initiation, in which the pledges underwent a similar cranial amputation. Tom looked at himself, and while he admired the neatness and symmetry of the style, he was thrown by its shortness, and thought he no longer needed to carry a comb with him anymore. Rudy took a long drag on the cigarette, put it out into the ash tray and returned to survey his work. Tom looked down at his lap, draped covered by the cape, and saw it completely covered by hair. Rudy took care of that, removing the cape and shaking it out. And then he put it around Tom again. Was it not over yet?

With a little shaving cream and a straight razor, Rudy tapered and touched up the area around Tom's nape and ears. And in seconds, Tom felt a hot towel draped over his barren head, as Rudy rubbed it around Tom's ears and neck. Then, he ran a brush through the stubble, and stopped to look Tom square in the face.

"Now that's a good haircut for a young man." Tom wasn't sure how to answer Rudy, but praise was not at his lips. He simply offered Rudy a half smile, as Rudy removed the cape and paper from Tom's neck, sauntering to the cash register to get Tom's $8. As he walked to meet Rudy, Tom stared at himself in the mirror, not sure how he liked his new look. But behind him he heard Mrs. Muldavey saying to her son, "That's how you're getting your hair cut," and her son Danny would only moan and cry "no I'm not" about how he hated it and he wouldn't let her, but once Tom was outside the door of Rudy's shop, Danny was in the same chair as Tom, whining and pleading with his mother to change her mind, but to no avail. Tom saw Danny just a few days later on his bike, and thought that Rudy had let him off easy!

Labels: SA

I awoke shortly after 2:00. The night was dark, with the light rain falling. I went down the hall to the bathroom and unplugged the night light and pulled the curtains closed. I opened the cupboard and felt for the box with the clippers. My hand found the smaller box with the attachment combs-I wouldn't be needing them-and then the clippers. I lifted them out and unwound the cord and felt for the wall socket to plug it in.

I was breathing a little fast. Half of me was shouting "Go back to bed!!" but the other half-the half with the clippers-was in control. I pushed the length adjustment lever all the way up to the shortest and snapped on the switch. The buzzing hum made me jump as it seemed to echo throughout the house. I wanted it to be quiet, even though there was no one else to hear.

My hand shook a bit as I put the vibrating teeth against my neck. The conflict between calling the whole thing off and doing what I had set out to do reached its climax. The clippers buzzed against my neck for an age; then I felt them slide up the back of my head, higher and higher up to the crown. As they went the buzz acquired a sort of hissing-the sound of the hairs being snipped. It was happening. Again and again I slid them up the back in carefully overlapping passes. I could feel the short hair dropping from the clippers and brushing against my hand as it fell. When I judged that the back was done I worked around to the side, clipping behind the ear and above it and in front of it, each pass overlapping the one before and climbing high up the side of my head. I switched the clippers to my left hand and did the same on the other side.

I was breathing hard now. I could still stop and repair the damage and be left with a plausible haircut even though the back and sides would be awfully short, The clippers sat for a long minute above my right temple. Then I pushed them back along the side of my head, higher than I had gone before. Reason had lost to passion. The next pass was almost violent, straight up the center of my scalp, all the way to the back. Again, pass after pass, from front to back and side to side. My head would be stubble now, though I could not see it and had not touched it, except with the clippers. Reluctantly, I switched them off and stood there in the silence.

The debate was shorter this time. I felt for the electric shaver, switched it on and started to shave away the stubble, starting right in the front. I could tell from the sound when it was time to move to a different area. The shaver worked more quickly than I had expected and in a few minutes I was finishing up, rubbing the shaver across my scalp with sweeping strokes.

I shed my T-shirt, which I knew must be covered with hair, and dropped it in the corner. The sink and counter must be littered with hair too; I would clean up in the morning. I wet my washcloth and wiped my head and neck to get the loose hairs off. The washcloth slid easily over my head so I could imagine the smoothness of my scalp. I would look and touch when I awoke in the morning. I wondered what I would think when I saw and felt my bald head. I went back down the hall, feeling the unaccustomed coolness on my scalp and slipped into bed.

Labels: SA

The old clippers were dying-the motor was making some scratchy noises, but the real problem was that they simply didn't cut well. In heavy going the blades would jam and pull. So, I found a new pair. Actually, they are small animal clippers, but they are identical to people clippers except for being heavier duty and having replacement blades available. Peeled off the little label and no one will know. They take the plastic attachments and everything. These clippers are quieter than the old ones. They make a low hum and to that sound is added a hiss as they cut. If you set the blades to longer than the hair is, you just hear the quiet hum; the hiss tells you that you are cutting something. Unlike the old ones, they have adjustable cutting length, with the little lever on the side. The blades are marked 10-15-30, which I guess is the equivalent of the old #0 down to #000. I have loosened the screws and slid the bottom blade back so that they will cut as close as possible. In the shortest setting they cut very close, a little closer than the old #000 clippers .

Out of curiosity I clipped a patch, shaved off a few hairs, and measured them. The actual length of the stubble is about 1/32", maybe a tiny bit less. At the longest setting, they cut to about 3/32". It's noticably shorter than with my old 1/8" plastic attachment and a bit shorter than the "blending" attachment. With the attachments and the adjustments I now have lots of possibilities.

I had been using the blending attachment with the clippers at the closest setting on the back and sides. The top gots the 1/8" , blending to the 1/4" to about a 3/8"-1/2" brush in front. It was a pretty short brushcut, but I liked the look and ease of maintenence. The last time, the blending attachment fell off as I was using it, but fortunately I avoided any damage. I realized that the little clip was broken. Since the weather was warm I decided to go with the bare clippers in back, set to the longest setting, of course. There wasn't much difference, except for a slightly crisper feel.

Tonight I start the clippers up the back of my head, running them nearly to the crown as usual. A couple of passes and I check to see how the soft fuzz is giving way to the bristly feel. I get a shock as I find sandpaper instead of bristles. The lever was set for the shortest cut, rather than the longest! I'm just not used to these new-fangled clippers, yet. Well, the damage is done and no repair is possible. The rest of the back, and the sides too, I guess, have to go. I clip the back and sides all the way up. The bare clippers feel good as they vibrate their way through my hair. I find myself sliding them diagonally as I go up, in order to get the closest possible clip. Clipping with one hand, feeling with the other. The scalp on the back of my head feels strange now. There is no sensation of hair, but of roughness, of a sandpaper feel. I can move the skin about with my fingers. It feels like some sort of parchment with the rough bristles. If I press down and try to slide my hand, there is considerable resistance. When it does move,there is almost a sound -a hum or buzz- as my palm slides across the hair ends. The hairs are remarkably rigid when they are this short.

Now the top. With the sides so short, I figure the top will have to be shorter, too. I leave the attachment in the box and use the longest setting of the clippers. I start at the back and work my way forward a bit. I run them back along the sides of my head where it starts to curve onto the top. I like the feel of the short bristles. I clip a little farther forward.

I get out the 1/4" attachment and hold it for a moment. Then I decide: the attachment goes back in the box and the clippers run from front to back over my whole head. The top is noticably longer than the sides, but still is a stubble cut. When I run my hand over it, there is no softness, like there is with a 1/4" or even a 1/8" clip, but a bristly feeling. I still need to taper the top into the sides. I push the lever up a bit and attack the top at the back again. And all of the top. A crisper feel this time. It looks a little shorter, though there can't really be much difference. In the harsh light from overhead, my scalp shines through the hair, and the hair is now so short it looks like bristles. There's not much difference between the top and the sides, but there is still a step. I shove the lever almost to the top and clip the top of my head, at the back, to taper it down to the stubble. I have a little trouble blending it into the "longer" hair at the front, so the clippers work a bit farther forwards. Suddenly I pull them to the front and clip straight back over the top. About 5 or 6 passes and it's all stubble. I look at myself in the mirror. My head is shaved by anyone's standard but mine. I shove the lever right to the top and the last tiny hairs go the way of their fellows. The whole head now has the sandpaper feel. The bristles are gone as I look in the mirror. There is no hair long enough to catch the light. My scalp shines more, but is still covered with tiny hairs, really just dots-a hint of a light brown shadow. I run my fingers over it, enjoying the strange sensation. My head is shaved! Well, not really shaved, but clipped as close as clippers can clip it. To get closer, I would have to use a razor or my electric shaver. Which is sitting on the counter.

It comes to life and rubs across the back of my neck. The coarse sandpaper roughness vanishes quickly, replaced by smooth skin. It feels cool to the touch and almost completely smooth if I rub my fingers down, but the sandpaper is still there, extremely fine, and only when I rub fairly firmly, up against the way my hair grows. The shaver runs higher till the back of my head is bare. I shave the sides, around my ears, and higher, almost to the top. Then onto the top of my head, rubbing in expanding circles down, down to the front. The shadow vanishes and with it goes the transition between forehead and scalp. The look will take some getting used to.

Now I feel for any rough spots and finish off the last. My head is bare, shaved, bald, smooth and hairless at last. I feel every breath of air and the wonderful sensation of coolness. When I touch my head, I am repeatedly surprised at the feel. My mind knows I am shaved but my hands aren't used to it yet. I wonder if I may have regrets in the morning. It will take a week or two to grow back something like my usual buzz cut. Or perhaps I will stop and buy a razor to see what it will do for those last traces of roughness.

Labels: SA

Dave really wasn't a jock; he was more of the brainy type. Good in science and math, good grades and the like. But he wasn't out of it. There had never developed the separation between the jocks and the nerds that sometimes happens.

Possibly it was because the school was small, with only about 90 kids in the senior class. Everybody knew everyone and got along pretty well. Gregg was more of the jock type, probably because his father pushed him.

Somewhere along the line somebody got the notion that Dave and Gregg were look-alikes. It was true, to a certain extent. Each was tall, though Dave was a couple of inches taller; they had the same build and each had dirty blond hair.

Anyway, as these things happen, everybody picked up on it. There was a lot of kidding and 'mistaken identity' situations, all good humored. It did get a bit tiresome occasionally for Dave, and probably for Gregg, as well.

The real appearance difference between the two, which made the whole thing a bit silly, was that Gregg had a brush cut, while Dave's hair was a good bit longer.

He wore it so it could be combed over, which it seldom was, with a right hand part through his cowlick. Probably 3-4 inches on top and fairly short around the sides, not hanging over his ears or collar. A lot of the kidding was aimed at getting Dave to get a brushcut too. The ironic thing was that Dave really wanted to get a brushcut but with all the teasing, he just couldn't do it. Paul and Chip were pretty good friends of Dave, but even they joined in the general teasing.

It all came to a head (literally) when the basketball team unexpectedly had a strong finish to their season and made the regional playoffs. They were pretty much underdogs, and decided they needed to do something drastic. The solution was haircuts all around--clippers all over. They did it in the locker room right before the game and gave everybody a shock when they trotted out on the floor.

They won! Next day a couple of posters appeared: 'Support your team' with a picture of a bald head.

Paul & Chip really started to get after Dave. He could show his support for the team, and just incidentally really be like Gregg. He really should do it--he wouldn't be alone--think how neat it would be--it will grow back--on and on. Dave held his ground. The hassling went on for a couple of days. A few other other guys, not on the team, showed up with baldies and the word was out that if anyone wanted to join in, the clippers were in the gym. When they saw the other shaved heads, Paul and Chip really stepped up the pressure. Finally Dave had had it.

'Ok, I'll do it' Dave said. Chip and Paul started to celebrate. '.. IF', he continued; 'IF you two do it too. Both of you.' The celebration stopped abruptly, as Chip and Paul looked at each other. 'You really do want to show your support for the team, don't you?' Dave asked slyly. 'Yes, but...' said Chip, running his hand through his blond hair. 'But what? Think how neat it would be--you won't be alone--it'll grow back'. Dave gave back as well as he had gotten. 'Look, you guys, you have been after me to get a brushcut for weeks and now you want me to shave my head, so I'll look more like Gregg. You claim I'll look good with a brushcut or a baldy. If it's such a great idea, then you guys should be willing to do it too. So put up or shut up.'

Paul broke the silence that followed, 'Would you really shave your head if we did?'

'Yep. Today, right after school. They still have the clippers in the locker room.' Dave was enjoying himself now. The more he thought about it, the less he minded the idea of getting clipped, especially if he could take his two friends with him. They were both just a little bit vain about their hair, so it would do them good, he thought. The teasing about his looking like Gregg would probably intensify, but what the hell, it was friendly teasing. And true, he wouldn't be alone. 'So what about it? Is it a deal? You two shave your heads and I'll shave mine. This afternoon?'

Dave thought that Chip looked a little sick, but Paul seemed to be considering the idea. Paul asked Chip 'What do you think? Should we?' as he unconsciously rubbed his hand over his head.

'Yeah, Chip, how about it? You've wanted me to get a haircut like Gregg' Well, here's your chance.'

Chip winced and looked at Paul. 'Are you going to do it?' he asked. Paul thought a long moment as he looked at his two friends and then across the lunchroom at the three bald heads at the next table. 'Oh, what the hell! I will if you will.'

'OK, Chip, I guess it's all up to you.' said Dave. 'If you want me bald, you'll have to shed those long curly blond locks of yours.'

'Wouldn't it be enough if just Paul does it?' 'NO WAY!' the reply came from both boys in unison.

'But what's to guarantee that you will shave your head if we do?' Chip asked. Dave grinned as he noticed the shift in Chip's attitude. 'Or what's the guarantee that you two will if I do? Well, I'll go second. That's the fairest way I can think of. Then it's two against one if the third guy tries to chicken out'

'Are you gonna do it, Chip?'

Chip wavered and stammered,' Maybe...I don't know....my mom will murder me....hell, you guys don't play fair!'

Just then the bell rang to end the lunch period. Dave said 'I'll be at the locker room at 3 o'clock. See you guys there--or not.' He looked from one to the other.

Paul met his look, but Chip looked away. Paul & Chip left for their next class together and Dave headed off to his Physics lab. As he left the lunchroom he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and tried to picture himself without hair. 'I'm nuts', he thought, ' So what else is new?' He figured the odds at no better than 50-50 unless Paul did some convincing.

At the last bell, Dave went to his locker to get his coat and books, and stopped in the washroom. He combed his hair over with his fingers, shrugged, and headed for the locker room. The place was empty and probably would be till practice at 4. The clippers were still there, sitting on the desk in the little room beside the office. There was a stool and part of an old sheet, and a big mirror on the wall. On the floor was a scattering of hunks of hair, different colors and different lengths. He sat down on the stool facing the mirror and then swung around and picked up the clippers. They had adjustable blades, but looked like they would cut very close if the lever was pushed all the way up. He was about to switch them on when he heard the door open. It was Paul. He must have stopped in the washroom, too, since his brown hair was carefully parted and combed. '

Well, any bets?' he said. They waited for what seemed a long time, each eyeing the clippers. Dave realized that he was willing Chip to show; he wanted those clippers to run. Dave was about to decide that the party was off when he heard the door open again and Chip walked in. 'So you decided to be a baldy!' said Dave. 'I still don't know. . .' Chip started to say. Paul broke in 'Stop spluttering! Either go back out the door or sit down on the stool.' Chip stopped and looked from one boy to the other, and at himself in the mirror. He bit his lower lip and hesitated for a moment and then lowered himself onto the stool, with his back to the mirror 'You guys are really gonna do it?'

They both nodded, and Dave threw the sheet over Chip and wrapped it around his neck. He handed Paul the clippers. 'You do Chip, he can clip me and I'll shave you. That way everyone gets to play.

Chip's hair was a bright blond, with a lot of wave, almost a curl. He wore it fairly long, down to his collar in back. Paul pulled out his comb and combed Chip's hair down in the front, the hair falling down past his nose. Then he switched on the clippers. 'Push the lever all the way up-we want to do this right!' said Dave. Paul ran his fingers across the top of Chip's head to lift up the hair, slipped the clippers in and pushed them back. The clippers half vanished in the mop of hair and re-emerged at the back of his head. For a moment it didn't look like much had happened till Paul ran the comb down, sweeping off the big hunks of blond hair into Chip's lap. There was now a bare stripe through the center of the mass of curls. A second and third pass followed, widening the stripe, each pass paring off a swath of curls to join the others on the floor.

Soon the top of Chip's head was bare, except for the two inches or so of untouched forelock. Paul then moved around to the back, lifted up a lock of hair and slid the clippers underneath and pushed them up. Again the clippers disappeared in a shower of blond curls, emerging at the top, leaving another bare stripe that joined the top. Then the rest of the back and around to the sides, and Chip was left with only the hunk of hair in the front, sprouting from his otherwise shaved scalp. 'That looks pretty funny! We could leave it like this and he can part it in the middle.' said Paul.

Chip could no longer stand it so he swung around to look in the mirror. He had to push what was left of his hair out of his eyes to see, and winced at what he saw. 'That looks really silly! Finish me off!' Paul flipped the clippers back on and with a half dozen passes removed the last of Chip's hair. The clippers had cut extremely short, and with Chip's blond hair, none of the stubble showed. He looked really bald. He studied his new reflection and ran his hand over his shorn head. 'Sure doesn't look like me. My mother will have a fit. Maybe I'll get used to it; I guess I'll have to! OK, Dave, get this sheet off me so I can get my revenge.'

Dave looked at himself in the mirror and ran his hand through his hair for the last time and sat down. Chip didn't waste any time. He snapped on the clippers and set them down on Daves forehead. He pushed them straight back along the part line, dropping a shower of Dave's dirty blond hair into his lap. 'There's no way you will chicken out now!' Dave grinned. He had no intentions of chickening out. He was enjoying the whole scene immensely. He watched in the mirror as Chip moved to the side and ran the buzzing clippers up the side of his head all the way to the bare stripe on top. As the clippers moved around towards the back, he noted with some satisfaction that his ear didn't stick out and that the side of his head that was shaved looked pretty good. Chip was working around to the other side and shortly the only hair left on Dave's head was on top. Chip made a couple of passes down the top, leaving a ragged Mohawk strip down the center. 'We could leave it like this... but then we could still tell you and Gregg apart, so off it comes!' The clippers ran down the center of Dave's scalp, plowing the remaining hair before them. A couple of touchup swipes and Dave was as bald as Chip.

He got up and looked at himself in the mirror. He liked what he saw and liked the stubble feeling as he ran his hand over his shaven scalp. Paul headed for the door. 'See you guys!' he laughed.

'No way!! Get back here!' Chip yelled.

Paul stopped and came back. 'I was just kidding.' He paused by the mirror and took a long look at himself in the mirror. His straight brown hair was neatly parted and hung nearly to his ear below the part. The top hair was even longer, reaching to his ear on the other side. In back, it fell from his crown to the hairline. He usually kept it trimmed neatly, but was overdue for a haircut.

He always kept it well combed, with a perfectly straight part. and today was no exception. Dave wrapped the sheet around his neck and picked up the clippers. He studied Paul's head for a moment. 'Go ahead, do it. I don't care. I was thinking of getting it cut short anyhow..well, maybe not this short, but it'll grow back sooner or later.'Dave flipped the switch and started. He decided to have a little fun along the way. He started the clippers in Paul's left sideburn and ran them up to a couple of inches above his ear. Instead of pulling them away, he slid them back down, leaving the long hairs over the shaved swath. He worked his way around Paul's head, clipping him bare all the way to where his head started to curve onto the top. The effect was interesting, with the bald scalp showing through the strands of long hair. Dave then shifted his attention to the top. Carefully he ran the clippers back over the top of Paul's head, just above the part line, and shaved most of the way back to the crown. He worked his way across the head, until the two sides were symmetrical. At this point, Paul looked like a cross between a monk and a clown, with the horseshoe of long hair hanging down the sides of his otherwise shaved head. Dave admired his handiwork for a moment, as Paul shook his head, flapping the fringe of hair. 'Come on, finish it up!' A couple of quick passes and Paul was as bald as his friends, though his dark stubble showed a bit more.

'Well, let the kidding begin', Dave thought. He now had the same haircut as Gregg and there wasn't anything anybody could do about it. And they would have the same haircut for a long while, since their hair would grow back at the same rate. He looked in the mirror again and rubbed his head. 'Unless, of course, one of us decides not to let it grow back!'

Labels: SA

Mike was a bit of a computer hacker, a tendency which he supported by becoming a Computer science major. One of the things he realized was that with the dorms all wired with Ethernet, that there was a lot of network traffic going past the little outlet in the wall. His computer, of course, only responded to its own address, but that was just a program. With a little tinkering, Mike was able to set up his machine so that it could intercept all of the Network traffic. This was a great jumble of Email, gif's, html, etc. A small adjustment, however let him select out traffic to and from a particular computer and eavesdrop on that person's messages. It took a bit more detective work to figure out who went with which address, but after a while he had things sorted out.The blond girl across the hall mostly sent sappy messages to her old high school buddy. The twerp by the stairs was into alt.sex. Virtual sex was probably all that guy was going to get.

The most interesting times were when Mike could listen in on a chat line. Of course, everyone used an anonymous handle, but that was no problem to Mike, because he could associate an address with the handle, only at his end, of course. One that intrigued Mike was Jeff, who frequented a haircutting chat group. This struck Mike as a bit odd, since Jeff had shoulder length dark blond hair. If he was into haircuts, why didn't he just go get one? It also got Mike curious, since he had also had more than a passing interest in hair and haircuts, preferably short ones. His own haircut was a fairly short flattop, though he had experimented with buzzcuts a couple of summers.

Mike found himself listening in on Jeff's chat group more and more.He found that Jeff had two different handles he used, with different personalities. One was "Burrcut", who was always pushing everyone to shave their heads. Burrcut, when asked, at various times claimed to have a #1 buzz, a #000 clip or even a shaved head. Not the real Jeff at all.

Jeff's other handle was "Jasper" who seemed to be much more honest. Jasper had shoulder length blond hair, was a college student, and generally described himself in a way that was recognizably Jeff. Jasper admitted to a fantasy of being forced to submit to a haircut: tied to a chair, scissored, clipped and shaved. A couple of members of the group confessed the same fantasy, but it was pointed out that it is very hard to arrange for your own forced haircut. You can hardly go up to someone and ask them to give you a haircut against your will--there's a major contradiction there! Since in real life people are seldom given forced haircuts, Jasper's fantasy would in all probability remain un-fulfilled. It was suggested that he just go get a haircut, but that wouldn't satisfy.

Suddenly it occurred to Mike that maybe Jeff/Jasper's fantasy could be satisfied. Jeff was making the usual assumption that his chats were anonymous and the possibility of an eavesdropper had never occurred to him. Jasper had in effect, asked someone to give him a forced haircut, without knowing he had done it. The contradiction was gone. The only question in Mike's mind was: was Jasper really Jeff? If not, forcing a haircut on Jeff could be big trouble. It took a couple more chat sessions, where Mike joined in and asked a few questions before Mike was satisfied.

Now how to pull it off? Getting access to Jeff's room shouldn't be a problem, since most people didn't lock their doors. Mike tested Jeff's door early one morning and found it was in fact unlocked. Scissors he had, and a razor, but he would have to bring the clippers from home next weekend. His dad had used them to do Mike's boyhood buzzcuts and they were still on the shelf in the cellar. A rope and a metal ring, a plastic ruler and a gag made from an old belt with a wad of rags tied to it completed his toolkit. Mike also fixed himself a close-fitting hood and mask: if this didn't work, he would have some chance of not being recognized. If it did, he probably shouldn't need the mask.

Mike settled on 5 AM Sunday morning as the best time. Most people would have been out partying and would be pretty well zonked out. Even though Jeff's room was by itself beyond the stairs, he didn't want to wake up the dorm.

Mike walked silently down the corridor to Jeff's room, carrying his stuff. Silently he opened the door and slipped inside. He stood for a minute until his eyes got adapted to the dark. He was in luck: the room was hot and Jeff was sleeping with no covers and only had on his boxer shorts. Mike had run the two ends of his rope through the ring, with a slipknot at each end. Quietly he walked to the bed. Jeff was sleeping face down. Mike carefully slipped the loop of one knot around each wrist and closed the knots as much as he dared. He put the gag on the floor and the ruler on the bed. He took a deep breath and hauled in on the rope. The knots tightened and the rope through the ring pulled Jeff's arms together. His wrists banged against the ring and Mike took a couple of turns with the rope and tied it off. Jeff was pretty well awake, but confused. Mike sat on his back, pushed his head into the pillow and stuck the ruler in Jeff's back. "Keep quiet! This is a knife. Do as you are told and you will not be hurt!" Jeff froze. Mike took the opportunity to loop the free end of the rope around Jeff's ankles and drew them up so his wrists and ankles were tied together. He slipped the gag around Jeff's head, and buckled it tight around his neck.

Jeff was pretty well helpless. Mike got off him and stood back. He got the straight wooden desk chair and took it to the bed. He rolled Jeff onto his side and stuffed the chair into position. Soon Jeff was trussed to the chair. With an effort Mike rolled chair and Jeff off onto the floor, ready for his shearing. Mike snapped the lock on the door and flipped on the lights. For a moment he felt sorry for Jeff, who looked totally petrified. Mike's black clothing and mask probably didn't help his state of mind.

"Damn hair's all tangled in this gag", he said as he tugged at it, making Jeff wince. "Where's some scissors?" Mike went to his bag and came back with the shears. He slid them along the top of the strap on the left side of Jeff's head and closed them. With a scrunch the hair parted and he pulled the long hair out from below the strap and waved it in Jeff's face. In the scramble to tie him up, Jeff's shorts had slipped pretty low giving Mike a fairly clear view of his crotch. Any remaining question Mike had about Jeff's fantasy was promptly eliminated.

Mike worked his way around Jeff's head, hacking off the long hair trapped under the gag strap, with Jeff getting visibly more interested in the procedings. "Too damn much hair everywhere!", muttered Mike as he worked the shears higher and higher, hacking off the long blond locks. In a moment the back and sides of Jeff's head were reduced to a motheaten stubble with hunks of longer hair here and there. Mike next surrounded the great lock that hung down in Jeff's face, lifted it up and chopped it off. Jeff moaned. Mike quickly worked his way back along the top of Jeff's head. "That looks better, but it's pretty ragged. Let's even it up a bit."

Mike plugged in the clippers and switched them on. He held them so Jeff could see that there was no attachment, just the bare clippers. Jeff's eyes grew wide as Mike put the clippers on his forehead and pushed them slowly and steadily back to the crown of his head. Jeff twitched convulsively; he was clearly appreciating this immensely. Mike pushed the clippers over Jeff's head again and again, till the top of his head was bare except for a faint dusting of blond stubble. Then the sides and the back. Except for the bottom of the back, which was still under the gag, Jeff was essentially bald.

Mike ran his hand over Jeff's stubbly head. "That's a lot better, but these bristles are going to make it hard to pull on your sweater; better smooth it off." He went to his bag and pulled out the foam and the razor. He lathered Jeff's head, rubbing it well into the stubble. Jeff closed his eyes and moaned a bit as Mike ran the razor back over the top of his head, reducing the stubble to clean smoothness. In a few minutes he had shaved Jeff's entire head against the grain.

"Ok, Jasper, that's what you wanted!", Mike said, using Jeff's web name. "If I take off the gag will you keep quiet?" Jeff closed his eyes and nodded. Mike unbuckled the gag. "How did you know? Who are you?" Jeff, blurted. "Shut up!" said Mike, and pushed his head forward and switched on the clippers. He mowed off the remaining fringe at the back of Jeff's head and smeared lather on it. The razor reduced it to smoothness. Mike dumped his stuff into his bag and untied the rope so that Jeff would be able to free himself easily.

"You shouldn't say things on the Web if you don't want people to know them! You have no secrets! "

"God, that was incredible!! Who are you?", asked Jeff

"I'll let you savor the experience for a few days, and then I'll let you know who I am. You should be about due for a clean-up about then." Mike ran his hand over Jeff's smooth scalp, picked up his bag and slipped out the door. "You bet that was incredible", he said to himself as he pulled off his hood and went to his room. "I wonder if there's any way I can get Jeff to retaliate!"

Labels: SA