| General Fiction posted November 6, 2014 |
  |
Story about getting a hair cut
The Barbers Payoff
by patcelaw
The Barbers Payoff
Late in the afternoon on September 17,1990 as I was leisurely reading the left over sections of the Sunday paper, my loving wife came to my chair. As she nudged me on the shoulder, I looked up with sleepy eyes.
"Yes, Pat what do you want?" I asked.
"Darling," she said, "it's about time for another hair cut, or we will have to take you to the beauty parlor for a perm."
A perm, I thought. This woman must be crazy. I've been in a beauty shop when women are getting perms and those places stink, I mean they really stink. I'd rather be dumped into a garbage can than to get a perm.
"Yes, dear, I guess it is time to get my hair cut," I said reluctantly.
As she got the cape for my shoulders, the clippers, comb and the scissors, I stripped to my size 38 belted trousers. Pulling up a cold metal chair, I was seated. Forgetting I didn't have my shirt on, I leaned back. As my warm, naked torso touched the coldness of the chair, shiver bumps seemed to arise from nowhere all over me.
As Pat came to where I was seated, she took the cape which had written on it, in bright red letters 'HAIR CUTS AT YOUR OWN RISK' cape and placed it around my 65 year old shoulders.
While placing the cape around my shoulders she quipped, "How about a Mohawk or a Yul Bryner this time?"
"No thanks," I replied, " I need some hair up there to keep my head from getting sunburnt."
"Okay, I guess I'll have to try to be good and not be led by the temptation I'm feeling to just whiz through this cut," Pat answered with a chuckle.
As usual, Pat plugged in the clippers and turned them on for a few seconds to see if they were working properly. With a quick click and the steady buzzing of the rapidly running clippers, I knew I was about to get a hair cut.
"Will you please sit still." she said, "or I might have to give you that Yul Bryner after all."
"Alright, I was only scratching my chin," I retorted somewhat frustrated with the way she was talking to me.
The buzzing of the clippers always made me somewhat nervous, even though Pat had never given me more than one bad hair cut in the 31 years of our marriage.
Then came the time for the scissors and the comb to do the finishing touches. Snip, snip went the scissors as the hair began to fall like slender, silvery threads across my large nose. With each dropping of the hair across my nose, it began to itch and I felt as though I would sneeze.
Finally I could take it no longer and said, "Pat, please stop so I may scratch my nose and sneeze.
Alright," she said, "we're almost finished."
When the hair cut was finished I got the royal brush-off with the 'HAIR CUTS AT YOUR OWN RISK' cape.
"Now honey, it's time for you to sweep the floor," I was flatly told.
After I had swept the floor, Pat reminded me gently, "it's time now for the payoff for your barber. How about $5.00 this time like you would have to pay at the barber shop?"
Pulling her into my sweaty body I said, "Dear, you are worth so much more than $5.00, so this is your payoff." I then gave her one of the biggest, best kisses I had given her in many days.
Looking at me with that special glint in her eyes she said, "you're right honey, that is worth so much more than $5.00, it's worth five-fifty at least."
-Patricia Lawrence
The Barbers Payoff
Late in the afternoon on September 17,1990 as I was leisurely reading the left over sections of the Sunday paper, my loving wife came to my chair. As she nudged me on the shoulder, I looked up with sleepy eyes.
"Yes, Pat what do you want?" I asked.
"Darling," she said, "it's about time for another hair cut, or we will have to take you to the beauty parlor for a perm."
A perm, I thought. This woman must be crazy. I've been in a beauty shop when women are getting perms and those places stink, I mean they really stink. I'd rather be dumped into a garbage can than to get a perm.
"Yes, dear, I guess it is time to get my hair cut," I said reluctantly.
As she got the cape for my shoulders, the clippers, comb and the scissors, I stripped to my size 38 belted trousers. Pulling up a cold metal chair, I was seated. Forgetting I didn't have my shirt on, I leaned back. As my warm, naked torso touched the coldness of the chair, shiver bumps seemed to arise from nowhere all over me.
As Pat came to where I was seated, she took the cape which had written on it, in bright red letters 'HAIR CUTS AT YOUR OWN RISK' cape and placed it around my 65 year old shoulders.
While placing the cape around my shoulders she quipped, "How about a Mohawk or a Yul Bryner this time?"
"No thanks," I replied, " I need some hair up there to keep my head from getting sunburnt."
"Okay, I guess I'll have to try to be good and not be led by the temptation I'm feeling to just whiz through this cut," Pat answered with a chuckle.
As usual, Pat plugged in the clippers and turned them on for a few seconds to see if they were working properly. With a quick click and the steady buzzing of the rapidly running clippers, I knew I was about to get a hair cut.
"Will you please sit still." she said, "or I might have to give you that Yul Bryner after all."
"Alright, I was only scratching my chin," I retorted somewhat frustrated with the way she was talking to me.
The buzzing of the clippers always made me somewhat nervous, even though Pat had never given me more than one bad hair cut in the 31 years of our marriage.
Then came the time for the scissors and the comb to do the finishing touches. Snip, snip went the scissors as the hair began to fall like slender, silvery threads across my large nose. With each dropping of the hair across my nose, it began to itch and I felt as though I would sneeze.
Finally I could take it no longer and said, "Pat, please stop so I may scratch my nose and sneeze.
Alright," she said, "we're almost finished."
When the hair cut was finished I got the royal brush-off with the 'HAIR CUTS AT YOUR OWN RISK' cape.
"Now honey, it's time for you to sweep the floor," I was flatly told.
After I had swept the floor, Pat reminded me gently, "it's time now for the payoff for your barber. How about $5.00 this time like you would have to pay at the barber shop?"
Pulling her into my sweaty body I said, "Dear, you are worth so much more than $5.00, so this is your payoff." I then gave her one of the biggest, best kisses I had given her in many days.
Looking at me with that special glint in her eyes she said, "you're right honey, that is worth so much more than $5.00, it's worth five-fifty at least."
-Patricia Lawrence
 Recognized |
|
Fiction, but based on what might have taken place as I cut my husbands hair. I originally wrote it as an assignment in a writing class, the prompt was to write a story about a hair cut. I wrote this in about 25 minutes.
The photo is of my husband and myself
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. The photo is of my husband and myself
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. patcelaw All rights reserved.
patcelaw has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
