A Close Shave

Written for the The New, Unofficial, On-line Writer’s Guild prompt

Navy barbers only knew one cut. Beg them to leave a little on the top, and you’d have pattern baldness at age 18. Insult the quality of the cut, and it would be like tossing their favorite razor on the sidewalk. These skills did not make them great candidates for becoming hairdressers, stylists, or even plain barbers after their enlistments.

Walk into his barber shop, and you’d see Buel’s Plank Owners certificate on the wall as well as the dearly beloved photo of him shearing his way through the locks of an entire recruit company at Boot Camp. Most of us former enlisted quake with dread seeing this photo. It’d be a cold and lonely day before I’d sit down in that chair. But needs drive.

Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits!

That day, we had a sacred duty. Claire had begged and pleaded with us to get Harry’s ten-inch locks sheared before the wedding. Her parents were en route to Boston from Idaho. Her father was already prepared to kill Harry for getting his only daughter preggo, and delivered of a beautiful grandchild. But Harry had avoided wedded bliss, and only reluctantly was willing to toe the line of matrimony. This did not include a shave and a haircut. So we were asked to help.

Our duty? to get this single father shorn in time for the wedding. Claire believed this act of appeasement would calm her father and please her mother. To do this, we took Harry first to the Harvard Gardens for an early stag party, one without any girls, but plenty of beer. Then, promising him an exclusive with the premier stylist in the entire Boston area for a “trim and styling”.

We walked him down towards South Boston to where Buel had his establishment within sight of the Navy’s Fargo Building ( ahhh, old memories). We didn’t have to prop him up much at all. He was still happy and out of it when we arrived at Buel’s—sitting him down in the barber chair, I greeted Buel in a familiar way, “Hey Chief, my buddy needs a trim. Could you leave a little on top?”

The Wedding and Aftermath

The wedding service was beautiful. Claire’s parents were enchanted during the ceremony when Harry, all of a sudden, seemed to snap into focus, start crying profusely, and run his hands through the very short stubble that was all Buel left on top. Everyone assumed it was a sign of forthcoming marital bliss. Claire just clutched her beloved closer.

Harry remained vague on how he had gone to a stag party with long locks, mustache, and beard, but wound up at the wedding shorn almost bald. Rather than enlighten him, we left the reception early. That night we drank for free at the Harvard Gardens with our friends who wanted to hear the story of Harry and Buel’s hair cut.