Chapter Two "What made you cut off your Afro Tim?" Brenton wanted to know. "Are you glad you did it?" "'Dare to be different', that's what I thought. Who ever heard of a barber with a shaved head? What a gimmick!" TimTrim dropped Brenton's hair and looked at him eye to eye in the salon mirror. "So what happened?" "Everyone digs it, like you. Matter of fact I've cut off a few guys hair since then. When some customers see it they want to look like me. Trouble is, they don't need my services for haircuts after that, until they grow it back again, if they grow it back again." There was a comic moan from TimTrim. "What kind of guys?" "Well there was a film crew on their way to a tropical jungle location all came in together, shaved everything off, moustaches, beards, all their hair, the lot. They didn't intend to, but when they started, they couldn't stop." "Mass hysteria they call it. Who else?" "Several fellers with thinning hair agreed to have it cropped down to strengthen growth. A rock singer or two. Three guys were shaved for a television commercial; a couple of radical trendies. Two iron-pumping body-builders. Then there were the swimmers. One night I was asked if I would go to a swim meet as a sort of donation to the club to do some racing haircuts. That night I shaved totally smooth eight swimmers. They said it gave them a psychological boost. It must have too, since most of them won or were placed. And you're an athlete." "You reckon I'll end up winner if I get shaved too TimTrim?" "No guarantees Brent. Best way to find out is to try it. But make sure, double sure. I don't want to influence you. You get shaved, it's your decision. You're on your own." "I told you TimTrim. I had the idea already ..... but I wasn't sure. It's a drastic step, isn't it?" Brenton looked directly at TimTrim. "But Yeah! When I saw you, it looked, you know, like it was your own statement, sort of macho." "You ready for the quantum leap Brenton?" interjected TimTrim, slightly embarrassed at the compliment, looking from his own reflection in the mirror and back to the youthful runner. Quietness settled over The BARBERY; music from the BarberShop-quartet had stopped; only ticking from the big railway station clock that Brenton could see backwards in the glass made any sound. And time was a'wasting. No definite decision had been made by Brenton. ... to shave or not to shave. He poked his arms from under the cloak and held his hair back again tightly from his brow. "Just give me a minute more to make up my mind will you please Tim? How long did it take you to decide to shave it all away?" Brenton asked of his friend. "Weeks man. I knew I wanted to try it but I just couldn't work up the guts. You know, people coming in here all day for really stylish hairdressing to see me with an overall bald skull." As if having already decided that the instrument would be used in Brenton's head, TimTrim started to sharpen his cut-throat razor on the well used strop hanging from the side of Brenton's chair. "Yeah! I see what you mean," agreed Brenton, eyeing the shining shaving tool in TimTrim's expert hands. Brenton could feel the stropping action through the chair, telling him to put up or shut up. But the argument with himself went on. Was it going to be back to plan number one, the reason he had come here in the first place, to have his hair completely cut off!? "Take your time man, you got the minute you asked for, no more. This razor is waiting for you. Sixty seconds!" TimTrim warned. Now Brenton knew that if he decided to do it, there would be no half way. His head would have to be shaved absolutely bald leaving his scalp as smooth and shiny as TimTrim's. "Shit Tim, sixty seconds is not much. Hey! Can I have a look at that razor?" Knowing full well that his customer was stalling for time, TimTrim passed it over, enjoying the game more than he would admit. TimTrim selected another razor from its velvet bed and tried it on his own head, running it over his already gleaming hairless scalp. "It's the way to go Brenton lad," he advised. "The look for today. Black is Beautiful. Bald is Beautifuller! Trying not to watch the performance in front of him, Brenton turned the razor over in his hands, opening and closing it a couple of times. He held up a long strand of his hair and sliced off an inch long piece, surprised at the sharpness of the cut-throat. Through the looking glass, TimTrim saw the experiment and again grinned to himself. Jolted a bit from the cutting power of the blade in his hand, Brenton dropped the lock of sliced hair on the red and white tiled floor and closed the razor, again combing his fingers through his hair in different directions. He would have the layer-cut instead, like TimTrim had suggested he decided at last ... well maybe a bit shorter than that; perhaps a college cut; no not that short; early Beatles; yes that would do; the Old Man would just have to put up with that until he moved out; not that, too old hat, he would need a hat if he got shaved; it had to be shorter than that; what about a flat-top, not the modern kind, one of the fifties styles, spiky short, level as a table on top, long, oiled back and sides into a duck tail; nah! not on; yeah! a step-cut, close up the back and sides and long on top, you could not get anything more trendy than that; Pop again, he wouldn't be satisfied, it had to be conservative; alright then, a college-cut it had to be, a long college- cut; nobody could complain about that, not even Pop; and a styled college-cut would certainly look good. His fingers parted the now tangled hair on the right side through his prominent cow's-lick, something he had always tried to hide before, but now with the short fringe was near impossible, then he brushed it back over the top of his ears. That is where it should have been in all the time Brenton now realised. His decision, just about, was to keep his hair after all. Sure, it was far too long. By now he realised he had let it get that way to spite his father. But TimTrim was right. That was no reason to shave it off completely. Better to keep it. Or would he? The idea would just not go away. "Tell me about shaving your hair Tim," Brenton prompted, still filling in time though he was close to a decision at last. "Well, my lady, by the way, Celia wants to know when you and Cindy are coming over for dinner, Celia and I had a barney a few weeks ago, so I went down, man, to a singles bar to drink it off with some glamorous foxy pick-up. The booze hit me too quick, and I didn't even get to first base with a doll. Probably didn't really want to anyway. But there was no way I was going home that night. 'Spend the night in The BARBERY, that's what I'd do'." TimTrim continued to shave non-existent hair from his smooth head. He turned to Brenton indicating the lad in the chair could do the same with the closed razor in his hand. Brenton pretended not to notice. "I came in here and sat in the chair reclined back to sleep it off. Until I saw the moonlit reflection of myself in the glass. What a sight. 'It's fate Tim' I said to the face in the mirror," he pantomimed to his reflection. "'Now's the chance to get rid of that ridiculous Afro' I said. There was no time to change my mind. I grabbed the clippers and attacked." So saying, TimTrim snatched up the clippers and demonstrated. "Man, I didn't even wait to put on a cloak on. By this time I was completely sober." "I'm not drunk now Tim, but I've still got to make the same decision with a clear head. Hey! What am I saying?" It was Brenton's turn to grin. "As a matter of fact I've decided  - " "Great," was TimTrim's premature reaction, releasing the brake on the chair, letting it sink to it's bottom position. "You need to be lower to have your hair shaved so I can work carefully on the top of your head with the razor. You'll never regret it kid. I know." TimTrim began to re-strop the open-bladed razor. "But ... Hey!" Brenton croaked, almost jumping out as the chair sank down. In resignation, he flopped back and raked his fingers through his too-long hair once more, perhaps for the last time. Was it too late now? "That was one of the most exciting things I had ever done Brenton my boy," TimTrim looked at the clock on the wall, realising that it was well after closing-time, moved across to lock the door. "I just peeled that Afro right off my head. It was sensational. Soon as the clippers had finished their job, I sat quietly, lathered up the stubble and shaved it right away." Listening to TimTrim, Brenton sat there knowing there was no where else to go. He had come to The BARBERY to get a haircut after all ... shaved or not. No! Not shaved; a college-cut; a long college-cut; streaked, to please Cindy. "What a charge! I got a terrific kick outta' that kid. Every morning now it's the same. Soap up and shave away. I touch it a hundred times a day for luck. Fantastic. Nothing like it. Stroking his hand over his denuded head, TimTrim leaned down to Brenton. "Here feel that. Go ahead. Smooth as a baby's bum." After a long moment of hesitation, Brenton reached out to lightly tough TimTrim's scalp. "See what you mean." "How would you do it TimTrim?" "What do you want, an environmental impact study? Well, first I'll cut off all the long pieces with the scissors and save them, either for you or for the wig makers". "That's funny. I get my hair cut off so someone else can have it put back on. Go on. Keep going." "Then I'll use the electric clippers with the fine cutting head to shear off all the remains. By this time you'll be almost bald, but there'll still be some very short bristle. When that's done, I'll steam your bare head with a hot towel to soften the stubble, then massage in the soap. Lastly I'll actually shave you bald as close as I can get to your scalp with the cut-throat razor so that you're left with nothing on your head except skin as smooth as mine." TimTrim illustrated on his own polished head, critically surveying his handiwork in the mirror. "Feel it man. Rub it. Get to know bald." Brenton knew he was losing. Or was he winning? Continue .....