26. TheBarbery6

Chapter Six

"You mean it Tim? Yeah! This is a job I could dig. Beats a timber yard hands down. But I could only be part time-part time, you know. There's my running. I've still got track to work out," answered Brenton hopefully.
"Look, The BARBERY could sponsor you, how about that? We pay better than most. Even when you were at the track then you'd still be promoting The BARBERY."
"But what about this? No hair any more! Won't I need trendy tresses to advertise the shop How long did you say it'll take to grow?"
"That's the strategy. People will talk."
"You wouldn't want me to grow my hair back again?"
"No, you'll have to keep it shaved while you're at uni. You willing to do that?"
"This bald thing was only going to be a oncer mate. Like you said, it'll start to grow in a couple of weeks. It was either shaved or that cool ComputerCut. You shouldn't have showed me that Tim, short-shaped, blond-streaked, parted through the cow's lick", Brenton vacillated. "But now I've gone this far - what the hell? Bald is Beautifuller. Sure! I really dig it man!" The shavee confirmed as more of his scalp appeared pristine from under the shaving cream.
"If we find it's not working, you'd have to let it grow." TimTrim continued to razor the head of his young friend.
"Don't worry. I'll stay hairless as long as you want. Guaranteed. You're the boss," affirmed Brenton.
"So, what do you say? You want to work for The BARBERY, shaved head and all?"
"Yes I do Tim. It's a deal." Brenton answered with enthusiasm. "This is just the place. I'd really like to work here while I'm at uni. Learning to be a Barber? Yeah! I relate to that. Why me TimTrim? Not that I don't want the job. I sure do."
"You're a friend Brenton, and The TWINS too. Leo wants you here as well. Things haven't been easy for you we know, but you still get good marks and you're an Olympic contender. We reckon you deserve a break. Now don't be embarrassed. We're not a benevolent society. You'll have to work for your sponsorship. Learn to be a good Barber, win some races. You will if I'm any judge. That'll be good for The BARBERY too."
"But I haven't even been in for a hell of a time. How did you know I'd come back?"
"Not come back to The BARBERY? You've got to be kidding. Besides The TWINS have kept tabs. Don't you remember, you once said to them it must be fun working in a BarberShop? Well now's your chance. OK?"
"You've been planning to offer me this for awhile, have you?"
"Sure. Who else? Besides you handled the clippers real well. You might not believe this, but the way you trimmed your fringe had a real professional touch, not as bad as you think," confided TimTrim. "We'll soon teach you to be the best Barber on the campus. You can even practice shaving on your own head."
"Wait till Cindy hears. I'll be able to move in with her. I was wondering how I could face her looking like this. Now I've got a reason." Brenton rattled on excitedly.
TimTrim continued to shave the stubble off Brenton's head. With expert ease, he glided the murderous looking razor gently over Brenton's head. This was even better than the clippers, completely soothing. Brenton watched fascinated as TimTrim scraped more and more of his scalp clean, down the sides and around the ears, his head tilted on one side and then the other. It was strange, feeling the lethal razor slide over his side-burns. Though Brenton had neglected his hair growth, he had always trimmed his side-burns most carefully, not too long and not too short, straight and precise. Now the razor paid them no regard.
Swish. Bare skin. No side-burns any more.
"Another thing, you can finish programming the computer and get the bugs sorted out. Hey! Brenton, don't think that's why I offered you the job, 'cause I was gonna' ask you anyway. You know, if we can get the program right, we might be able to market it, with a few other things we have up our sleeves. You'd have a share of the take as well. It's going to be your profession, so that's only fair. With your studies and training here it should be a first class program, and that's good for The BARBERY."
"Sure. No problems. That'll make practical credits for my major as well. They better not hassle me at uni either. I'll be the only sponsored bald-headed runner in the club. It all comes together TimTrim. What a team!"
"You're in good company Brenton my man, me and the Pharaoh." They both turned to drink a toast to the ancient Nile Valley king on the screen.
"Why not have that old Egyptian silk-screened on my track-suits, with the words The BARBERY. I'll work up the designs myself."
"I knew there was a brain under all that hair. Now it can get out. That's a marvellous idea Brenton. What an advertising gimmick. Nearly finished Brent. How's it look?"
"Fantastic!"
"By the way," continued Brenton with a completely new thought, "how often will I have to shave it Tim? I mean, I want to keep it completely smooth like yours."
"Every day man, weekends included, when you're socialising, at least. It's gotta' be shaved shiny and new every single day," the Barber replied. "Otherwise
it looks crappy, and that won't do for The BARBERY's sponsored track star, and our new assistant." Again TimTrim grinned.
"What about an electric razor. Will that work?"
"Now you gonna' be a Barber Brenton. You have to use a cut-throat. Normally. That way you keep this clean-skin polished look. None of them other toys'll do that. Let the customers watch. It'll give 'em a kick. But there's one other thing I want to show you before you go."
Brenton got his own kick as TimTrim began to slice the blade over the swirl of the crown. This was it. Shaving there gave Brenton an air of finality. The crown seemed to have a feeling of its own, a little more sensitive than anywhere else on his head. Perhaps it was why the monks of old had been tonsured on that exact spot. A shaven crown meant peremptory loss of hair - and vanity.
It was amazing how even the removal of the stubble changed Brenton's appearance. Images were crowding into his mind. He could now escape from the tension of home, 'The House that Jack Built,' he often thought it was. Yet here he was himself, 'the Man all Shaven and Shorn'.
"We'll have posters printed to match your track-suit Brenton," TimTrim carried on the bright idea, "and lapel badges. You'll be a track star, and The BARBERY will have the biggest custom in town. At least you now have a reason to face the world shaved bald."
"TimTrim," Brenton began quietly, "look, I want to thank you for the job..... and your patience. I must'a' been a real pain in the arse when I first came in here. But you didn't blow your cool."
"Forget it," off-handedly assured TimTrim. He shaved the very last part of Brenton's scalp. TimTrim piloted the shaving blade closely all over the curved pan of the head, planeing the upper scalp as smooth as glazed porcelain. The top of Brenton's head became clear for the first time. This was the ultimate - the place where other men paid fortunes to keep or replace their hair. Not on Brenton. His scalp was being shaved. Shaved! He concentrated on the sense of the keen steel edge firmly caressing the contours of his skull. TimTrim slowly scraped away the cream and what little hair remained stroke by careful stroke, revealing the clean bare scalp - the color and glow of newly carved ivory.
In spite of himself, Brenton once again gripped the arms of the chair as TimTrim moved the razor to the final phase. Across what had been Brenton's fringe and cow's-lick, the very front of his hair-line disappeared with a couple of firm flashing strokes by the Barber, shaved away. It was done. There was nothing left. Completely bald.
"Man, ain't that something?" Brenton watched riveted.
With a fresh towel from the steamer, cooled by flapping it in the air, TimTrim wiped Brenton's freshly shaved scalp all over, then dabbed on an astringent. At last the barber's cape was removed. Again Brenton saw an entirely new vision of himself. He could now recognise himself as a person, not a disembodied head above a cloth. He grinned with pleasure, the whiteness of his film-star teeth somehow matching the color of his head. Rubbing his hands all over his shiny, freshly shaven scalp, he felt like he'd just won the National Titles 200 Metre Invitation.
Here for the first time Brenton could survey the real shape of his head without the disguise of his hair. Imagination had not completely prepared him for the picture staring back at him from the mirrors. His head now was a top of a shining white sphere, not a perfectly rounded sphere, but one slightly square in shape. The very squareness added character and definitely improved the form.
There seemed to be no ugly bumps and crevices he had seen on the top of some naturally bald men, or heavy knobs at the back that shorn marines sometimes suffered. His shape overall was just right. Luck was with him. Now he would be able to keep his head shaved without concern about symmetry.
"I know how you feel," advised the Barber. It'll take some getting used to. What do you reckon? You pleased?"
"Better than pleased! Yeah! That's really me. That's what I want. Yes! I'm chuffed I had my hair shaved off. I never thought I'd ever be game TimTrim. But I did. It looks terrific."
Contrast between the tanned skin of his face and the pristine un-sunned-upon scalp highlighted the difference from the former to the now. The orb of his head against the sculpture of his handsome visage appeared somewhat like a gladiator's helmet. Well, in a sense he was a gladiator - of track and field. For a moment Brenton wondered if he wanted the colors to blend, as he knew would happen as the denuded scalp weathered.
"I know I promised you I'd let it grow later for The BARBERY if you wanted TimTrim, but I sure hope I can keep it shaved for a good while yet."
Ears! Brenton had been worried that his ears would stick out. Vaguely, he remembered that they did, slightly, when he was a kid with those short-short-back and sides whitewall haircuts. But not now. They sat in perfect proportion and perfect shape, in exactly the right place.
"Oh! well," he said aloud to the World, the more to convince himself, "why not go for broke?" And besides, Cindy would probably now insist on the gold earing she had been trying to persuade him to wear. "Shaved head - pierced ear! The Old man will freak out."
"You say you want an earing man? That sure would complete the picture. Want to do it now?"
"Well The TWINS were game, and those rubies looked something else with their mega-short haircuts, what did we call them, The TWINS Tonsure? I hope one will suit no hair. Sure! Why not? All the way."
"Ring or stud?"
"I think I prefer a stud. But The TWINS have got those, so I suppose I'll go for a ring right now, a really small one. Gold."
With an instrument not unlike a refined punch, TimTrim pierced a hole tight in the centre of Brenton's left ear lobe, an action which the now shaven-headed customer hardly felt.
"Keep it clean with antiseptic for a few days, and move the ring around every now and again to keep from it seizing up." He threaded a small self-locking gold ring through the hole.
"This sure is a day for change." Brenton gently touched the strange feeling ring in his earlobe. "Seems we've made all the right decisions. I really like that TimTrim."
"You know something Brent? I've got a customer who's an advertising photographer. He's always on the look-out for new models. Only this afternoon when he was in here for a style-cut he told me he was looking for a young model who wouldn't mind having his hair cut off."
"Like the guys you shaved for the TV commercial?"
"They were only passing through town on their way to the location. The director suddenly decided he wanted them shaved clean, and paid them a fortune to do it."
"Some people have got all the luck."
"I reckon you can get some of that luck. You'd fit the bill Brenton. I was thinking of you anyway. You've got the athletes build, tall, good looks, the right age, and now a shaved head. And besides, you're a mate. Here's the photographer's card. Give him a ring. You're a cert."
"I don't know about that. A male model? You know what they say about male models? Besides, I wouldn't have the time now I'm working for you, and college, and the track and all that."
"We'll make time. It puts more dollars in your pocket and gives publicity to The BARBERY. Look, I guarantee you'll get the gigs. You'll just have to disguise that white scalp with make-up until it tans over."
"OK man. Whatever you advise. How can I say no? You're a real pal," Brenton thanked his friend.
"There's another thing. For modelling you'll need clothes. Not those T-shirts and jeans you always wear."
"It's all I can afford. The Old Man's not exactly generous with my allowance," advised Brenton with some embarrassment.
"No problem. I know just where to get you a co-sponsor, Town and Around Gentlemens' Furnishings."
"You're kidding. No way I could afford to shop there. That's great gear, man."
"Just leave it to me. We'll co-ordinate your wardrobe with Gerry Town. He'll go for your shaved head. That's always the problem, getting a promotion that stands out. Hey! Brenton don't worry that you'll be a walking billboard. This is all class. Subtle."
"Thank you Professor Higgins!"
"Higgins? Ah yeah! I know what you mean. I'll tell you this though, you're some funny looking Eliza Doolittle."
"I'll never be able to thank you Tim. This changes everything." Brenton continued to survey his shaven head in all the mirrors. "Dare to be Different. It pays off."
But would his father approve? Even to him it had to be completely obvious; Brenton bald was a lot better image than Brenton with long unkempt hair.
"Here's a tip friend. Just massage in a little BIOSAL AromaTherapy Oil. Not too much mind. That's the secret of the polished look, and it keeps the skin moist. Look after your scalp Brenton. Remember it's not used to the abuse it's had today."
The Barber worked the smallest amount of BIOSAL Oil into Brenton's scalp, and it genuinely did take on a polished look. Spray cologne finished the effect.
"How about that? I don't use hair oil when I've got hair, but I use it when I haven't any at all. That's life, I guess."
Climbing out of the old-fashioned barber's chair he moved over to the salon mirror, peering closely at himself. Not a trace, not a whisker of hair on his head could be seen. The scalp was absolutely smooth, as though there never had been hair there at all. But he knew he would have to work at it. Every day in The BARBERY salon he would have to shave his head, to keep it as polished as it was at this moment.
From the bench he picked up the rubber banded tress that had been sliced from his crown, and held it over the front of his shaved forehead. A peel of laughter at the image broke from the two of them. Taking out his wallet Brenton made to pay the Barber.
"No charge man. Staff get free haircuts, earings too," he joked. handing the new assistant the computer Polaroids of the style he nearly had. "It's been my pleasure. You enjoyed it."
They drained the last of the wine. Again Brenton peered at himself in the mirror. What he liked most; more than the perfectly proportioned dome; the ears in exactly the right position freestanding against the white walls and uncovered by hair; the forehead free of the ever flopping fringe - clipped off by that first tentative cut; the back of his head seeming lighter in weight, never again his long hair catching in his collar; was the fact that he was definitively Bald!, completely and absolutely shaved. He could not resist once again rubbing his hands over the shorn scalp.
"Look, I know I said you need a cut-throat to shave off every day, but remember I told you to let your scalp rest for three or four days? Well the party's tomorrow night and I think you'll want to shave again. Right?" questioned TimTrim.
"Damn right!" affirmed Brenton. "For my first big gig I want to be smooth man. I'll have to buy a cut-throat first thing. Where'll I get one TimTrim, from you?"
"I've got another idea. I don't want you flashing that blade around too much until I've been able to give you some lessons, especially shaving up the back and sides. You want billiard ball bald for The TWINS' bash, and I'd rather you got used to doing yourself right away."
"So, what do I do, use the electric? That won't get it as smooth will it? You said not to do that," queried Brenton again admiring his polished dome.
"I've got something here that's brand new, a prototype batch; they're out for test runs, and I reckon your an ideal pilot." TimTrim took from a drawer a small high-tech looking metal box and handed it to Brenton.
"It's a twin-blade, one of those battery vibrator jobs, but the handle's a lot thinner," he observed.
"More than that Brent. It's been developed by a customer of mine; runs a precision engineering firm. They've come up with a real breakthrough for surgical application. But Leo and I convinced him there's a huge market for ordinary shavers. Looks like we might help him market it. Already the big international razor firms are interested. You know, Gillette, Wilkinson Sword, Remington. Gillette built the new blade for it."
"There are two of those white strips. Lubricating aren't they?" asked Brenton.
"You're right on. That lubricating strip comes in front of the blade, where it should be, as well as behind. Means you can comfortably shave without foam or soap, just water if you want", instructed TimTrim, "but that second strip can also attach into the head so you can still use ordinary twin blades. Clever?"
"OK. That's sounds good. But that's only another kind of blade", suggested Brenton somewhat sceptically.
"That's only part of the clever, friend. It's the whole new machine in that small handle that's what it's all about. There're tiny electrodes built into the clamp that holds the blade in so they really become a vibrating blade, I mean the blades actually work like hair clippers backwards and forwards, not like the old version that only vibrated the whole gadget. They're the same blades, but this invention makes each edge move separately a tiny fraction through a micro electrical charge, even when the blades are built into the plastic frame.
"Only a small pencil battery", observed a Brenton, opening the waterproof case.
"See! Look, it also has the swivel head to follow the contours of your curved chin, and on you, your whole head, and the blades are adjustable," instructed the bald Barber to his freshly baldened friend. "Have a go." Brenton switched on the vibrating safety razor and gently stroked it over his already totally hairless head.
"Hey that feels something wild! Will this be as good as a cut-throat Tim? I like the feel of this."
"I reckon it shaves closer, because the blades actually move, and that second lubricating strip, developed by the CSIRO by the way. Seems to get even below the skin almost to the root of the hair", enthused TimTrim.
"Shouldn't that hurt?" Brenton wanted to know as he balanced the razor in his hand.
"Not at all. That's the beauty of it. Those two strips do the trick. You hardly feel you're shaving except for the vibration, and that's for all the world like a massage".
"So you want me to be a guinea pig, use this new gadget instead of the cut-throat? Sure. OK," agreed Brent with some enthusiasm.
"I still want you to use the straight razor here in shop after you know how to handle it properly Brent, as well as The BARBERY SuperShaver, that's what we're calling it. I reckon it'll revolutionise shaving, 'specially men who still want to use a real blade razor."
"So how do I do it tomorrow night for the party? Do I use it dry or shaving cream? Don't forget man, I want to look totally hairless."
"Just use hot water in this case. Wet your head real well, then let those new lubricating strips do their work. Even on your tender scone they should give you a non-abrasive job. And be careful. Don't graze your scalp by trying to get too close yourself. That little number will slice off every bit of known stubble. Then don't forget the BIOSAL AromaTerapy Oil. Massage it right in
"Hey! What if I really oil up just for the party. You know, not only to moisturise the scalp as you told me, but use enough to look like those body builders do, fairly oily?"
"You'll glow in the dark. But yes I dig that," advised TimTrim.
To test the theory, Brenton took from the bench a bottle of BIOSAL AromaTerapy Oil, sprinkled it on his denuded scalp and massaged it in like a kid with a new toy, surveyed it with satisfaction, and then wiped off the surplus, back to what would now be his normal shiny hairless skull. One thing was for sure, Brenton was certainly going to enjoy his baldness, and the constant shaving of his head. The BARBERY SuperShaver was another added bonus.
"Why don't we add this to the track-suit and the advertising. Get your photographer mate to shoot some pix of me shaving my head with this super gadget. Might as well make the most of being bald."
After all, this was going to be lucky for him, the real omen - his bald dome; something from Xanadu, the Pleasure Dome.
"Come over for a bar-be-que Sunday afternoon, a hair of the dog after The TWINS' party. We'll fix up you working here at The BARBERY for the next few years, and the royalties on the ComputerCuts Program, and of course The SuperShaver. We can all have a look at the video. That'll give you a charge. Don't forget Cindy. She's part of The BARBERY family now."
The new trainee Barber made no reply. He just shook the bald Barber's hand and saluted the inscrutable Pharaoh. Glancing at his watch, Brenton walked out of the door of The BARBERY. Little more than on hour had gone by since he arrived. It had seemed like an age, a pause in time.
Here was a new man, - well becoming a man - with a job, the chance to share his life with his chosen lady and a bright future at university and especially as an athlete. Delilah knew what she was doing; Sampson never realised when he was well off.
All this was because he'd had the insane inspiration to have his hair all cut off. Now, his tingling hairless dome gleamed brightly in the early evening light as a last ray of sun touched his newly bared head. Brenton flicked the Tarras Bulba switch over his polished pate, where once it had grown. He rubbed his hands once more over his shaven scalp.

Bald was Beautifuller!