I have been a barber for almost 30 years now, but the events of that night were definitely the strangest I had encountered   It had been an average

Thursday, which was normally a slow day in the first place. It was 15 minutes to close and the shop was empty, and I was tidying up the magazines preparing to lock up. All the stray clippings from the day had already been swept up and placed in the bin out back, and the robe already neatly folded on the arm of the barber chair.

The truck screamed to a stop at the front parking space, and the couple exploded out of it in a blast of fury. "Don't do it!" she cried out in rage. "And what if I do?" "You know what I'll do!" "No, you won't. You don't have the guts." "You know I do." "Then you're going to get your chance real soon, because I'm doing it."  

The man burst into the barber shop and quickly regained a bit of courtesy. He looked to be in his late 20's to early 30's, with strong build and features. Most of his facial features were covered by his extremely long black hair, that fell almost to his waist with a bit of wave.

It was parted in the center and he tossed it behind his shoulders casually while talking. "Please tell me you're still open." I was still confused by the unexpectedness of the event. "Yes, I am." "Terrific!" With that he threw off his warm jacket and hopped lightly onto the barber chair. The woman (his wife or girlfriend I presumed) was soon in the door.

She appeared the same age as he, fit but of medium height, with extremely full curly black hair that was covered by her winter coat. It was either a very tight perm or extremely naturally curly. He couldn't tell how long it was. She looked quite angry right now but was still a stunning beauty. "What has my husband said to you?" she asked politely but sternly. "Nothing yet," I fumbled out. "Well, whatever he asks, don't do it." I stood there totally confused.

My upbringing never prepared me for this, because I was always taught to respect the wishes of your wife. But then, the customer is always right, and the customer was the man in the barber chair right now. He turned to me and thrust a $20 bill into my hand. "Give me a flattop, a real short one, the shorter the better." He turned to face his wife. "And do it REAL SLOW.

If you do you can keep the change." He shot a villainous smile at his wife. "Don't do it Greg, or you know what will happen!" "Yeah, right Kim, I'm so certain!" He looked up at me. "You can start anytime." Again I stood there confused.

The two of them stared at each other but neither said a word. I looked at Kim, but she just sat with arms folded stubbornly. I figured 'the customer is always right' adage applied this time, especially since I had been paid in advance and had the chance for a 66% tip, so I unfolded the robe and placed it over Greg.

I kept an eye out in the process for Kim, prepared to stop at a moments notice. It took a bit to get the robe into position as the guy had a lot of long, stringy hair. It fell down the back of the chair almost past the end of the robe. I figured I'd be cutting a good two feet of hair off, maybe more. I had never really liked long hair on men, so this haircut was long overdue in my book. He wanted me to go slow for the tip.

While not my usual style I could do that. I took a hair brush and started brushing all his hair back from his face. The fact it was wavy would make a flattop a little tougher, but he wanted a real short one so it shouldn't be a problem. I turned and picked up my scissors.

I figured I'd make a clean slice across above the shoulder to get most of the length off before I started in with my clippers. Kim spoke up one more time, almost pleading. "I really am serious about this." "So am I." He looked up at me. "Chop away."

As I closed the scissors around his hair and it started to fall to the floor he began laughing, mocking the obvious pain of his wife. She, on the other hand, tried to look away but continued to sit there disgusted taking in each step of the process. The last snips of the scissors saw most of the length fall to the floor, and now he looked like a guy with a bob hairdo. He looked rather silly but I'd take care of that shortly.

As I turned to get my clippers he surprised me by jumping out of the chair and picking up a handful of his shorn locks and tossing them at his wife. They landed on her lap. She picked them up, inspected them, and then just nodded her head with the look of someone planning her revenge. He was back in place in no time, and he straightened the cape and apologized to me, promising no more disturbances.

I walked to the right side of his head with comb and clippers and started at his sideburns. He was smiling a huge grin as the clipper made contact and I slowly started pushing it through the hair. The chunks came pouring down.

He had asked for a real short one so I obliged. I planned a horseshoe with landing strip to be the outcome. It would be as drastic a change as I'd ever cut, and that's saying a lot. I continued slowly around the right ear, working my way towards the back.

Then I started in on the back, watching the pale white scalp appear as the hair was removed, looking almost like an overgrown lawn being mowed. While I still took my time, I was soon working on the top, with neither Greg nor Kim changing their demeanor or saying anything at all. If looks could kill they'd both be dead by now. I did a once-over of the top just to get rid of most of the bulk. It was now down to about an 1 1/2 inches.

Then I added some gel and blow-dried it straight. It worked better than I expected which means it could have been a longer flattop. But he requested short and he would get it. Soon I was passing the clippers directly over the comb resting on the scalp taking it shorter and shorter. His head was a great shape for the cut. I put down the comb, held his head in place and did my last pass with the clippers, leaving a pronounced, clean landing strip down the middle.

Then I blended in the sides. I spritzed it several times with the strongest holding hairspray I carried. Upon touching it it was extremely stiff and spiky, just like I planned. Then I applied the shaving foam around his hairline and used my straight razor to really clean it all up.

This cut had taken twice the amount of time as usual but it was a fine job if I say so myself. I handed him the hand mirror, proud of my creation. He smiled and ran one hand over his nearly bald head. "Oh yes, perfect. That is just exactly what I wanted." I undid the robe and snapped the huge amount of hair onto my once clean floor. It would take some more time before the floor was clean again.

He walked over to his wife, who still sat arms folded. He grabbed one of her hands and placed it against his scalp. "I did it, see. Isn't it great!? What are you going to do about it?" "What am I going to do about it?! I'll show you what." With that she stood and threw off her heavy jacket onto an empty seat.

The full glory of her mane was now exposed. It fell past her waist nearly below her bottom. It was a huge, voluminous pile of tight curls. It was jet black and shiny and gorgeous. When straight it probably reached past her knees. I just stood there admiring this wonderful head of hair. She reached into her pocket and pulled out two $20 bills. Then, much to my suprise, she walked over to me and thrust them into my hand. She turned and sat down on my barber chair.

She crossed her legs and leaned back, looking defiantly at her husband. "Give me a flattop. A real short one. In fact, shorter than his. And cut it REAL SLOW. The slower the better." Now I was really confused. I had given thousands of flattops before, and even a couple to women over all the years, but even they came in with short hair to start with. This would be the most extreme haircut I ever gave. Plus, this woman had absolutely fabulous hair.

Why would she want to do such a thing? I had already given her husband basically the shortest cut possible. To go shorter meant completely shaving her sides and back and only the slightest ridge of hair at all remaining on top. It seemed almost...criminal. What could have driven these two to this? I looked helplessly at her husband, who now sat, rubbing his head mocking her. Then I looked at her, hoping to be spared. She just stared at her husband. I tried to hand her money back. "You are kidding aren't you?"

She looked at me, almost pleading. "No, I'm not kidding. You can keep all the change too. I've never been more serious about anything in my entire life." I stood frozen. I didn't want to do this. She again looked at me. "If you won't do it hand me the clippers and I will. Would that make it easier?" She was totally serious. This was going to happen whether I helped or not. Reluctantly I picked up the robe and shrugged my shoulders. This would be a night for the record books. As I lifted her hair out of the way to put on the rope I was struck at how thick and silky it was. It was truly the greatest mane I'd ever seen.

As she sat in the chair, so innocent, it reached almost to the floor. I turned towards my tools wondering where to start, hoping I'd hear this is all a joke at any instant. I was shaking and feeling slightly ill. I picked up my scissors and turned to face her.

She was playing with her hair with her hands, holding it out and letting it fall. Was she doing this to torture her husband or as a farewell gesture to hair she surely had been growing for many years? I watched quietly until she was through. I walked behind her and pulled it all so it was falling down her back. It was so soft and perfect. "Are you really sure you want me to do this?" (Please say stop!) "Yes, shorter than his."

I figured I'd start cutting about mid-back length. Maybe then she'd chicken out and I would be spared. My hands shook visibly as I brought the scissors next to her tresses. (Tell me to stop, please!) The scissors closed and a section probably two feet long was history, but clung to the rest of her hair refusing to fall.

The now shorter, lighter hair shrunk back several inches almost like it was alive. It momentarily phased me. Still no word from either of them. I continued the scissors across her mid back. Soon a giant pile of her mane rested on the floor. I bent over and picked up a section and handed it to her sadly. She got up and placed it on her husbands lap with great joy.

As she came back to the chair she checked her look in the mirror, noting how much length was still left. It appeared much fuller and bigger on top now with so much restrictive weight gone. She stopped to talk to me. I was hoping she would now change her mind. "Really, I'm totally serious. I want a flattop shorter than his.

Please, do this for me." "Do you know how short that'll have to be?" "Yes, I do. Basically bald I figure." I couldn't believe this. Why didn't Greg do something? But I wasn't a marriage counselor, just a barber. I sighed and realized I would grant her wish. As she sat down in the chair I again pulled her hair behind her back. "I'll do it, but I don't want to." "I know you don't. Thank you for being a professional." The texture of her hair would never permit my barber's comb to go through it.

So I just took the scissors and stepped around to her right side, then, starting just below the ear, I began removing her long locks. I ached inside as each section fell and the remaining hair sprang back shorter still. As I worked around to the back I could hear her lightly singing to herself a happy tune, and Greg now sat arms folded in frustration.

 By the time I had worked all the way around past the left ear the pile of hair was so great by my feet I had to sweep it away so I didn't trip. While I did she exclaimed to her husband, "I told you what I'd do, didn't I?!"

The pile almost filled the trash can that normally easily held a whole day's clippings. Looking back at Kim, her hair now looked like a giant "Afro". I'd have to continue now because she looked awful (if a beautiful woman can look awful) with it this way. I cleaned and oiled my clippers, now set on the lowest setting. I hoped I would wake up soon and find this whole evening to be a dream, or nightmare, or whatever.

 I walked to her right side shaking badly. I clicked the clippers on. She still didn't tell me to stop. I placed them against her head in front of the temple, hoping to hear the word "Stop." It wouldn't be forthcoming, and I slowly pushed the clippers into the hair. It came off cleanly, like it should, and her pale scalp was soon exposed to the daylight.

I continued around her ear. My nerves were now still. It was too far gone now for anything else. The thick curls fell against the robe and slid down in front. I walked behind her and tilted her head down. I placed the clippers at the base of her neck and slowly pushed clear up to the top. I swear I could hear her moan in delight. I took my time as she requested but soon the back of her head had only the faintest bit of stubble left. I continued around her left ear. I was numb now and just doing a cut I had done countless times before.

But as I caught a glimpse of her gorgeous eyes and face, now with only a remnant of the mane she had previously still hanging, it snapped me back to the reality of what I was doing. I normally enjoyed giving a flattop. Not this time. I wondered if I'd ever enjoy giving one again. I couldn't stall any more, it was time to cut the top.

I would have to go very short before using my gel and blow dryer to get something to stand up. I picked up my comb and started in the front, taking off a good 4 inches of length on the first pass. It fell over her face, some getting stuck on her nose.

She blew it off with a grin. "It's OK, it's what I want," she whispered. I continued working my way back, slowly and steadily. It was still a little too long to try to straighten. I went over it with a second pass. It was only about one inch long now. It was still trying to curl, but I figured I could tame it. I used the strong gel and blow dryer as effectively as I'd ever done before. Amazingly her hair did go straight.

That would certainly make the last part easier. I walked around front and faced her. She looked so different now she was almost unrecognizable. "Shorter than his, really?" "Shorter than his, definitely." I walked around her again and laid the comb directly against her scalp and proceeded. Her head shape did help, thankfully. It was flatter on top so the landing strip could be wider, making it a noticeable difference.

Soon it was a very level flattop ready for the last run. I held her head firmly in place and placed the clippers directly against her scalp. Slowly the landing strip was revealed. I made numerous passes, probably overkill, to make sure it was perfect. I couldn't make the top any shorter if I wanted and still be a flattop. I looked at her from the front, surveying my work. She looked up at me with her huge brown eyes and smiled.

One last pass which cut basically nothing and the top was done, as good as I could ever hope to do. I blended in the sides and back with the top. There was almost no hair left. "Remember I want the sides and back shorter than his too," she said enthusiastically. "Yes, I know."

 I had hoped she would spare me this. I walked back and sharpened my straight razor. Then I went and got a good amount of hot lather and started spreading it around the sides and back of her head. She closed her eyes and smiled at the sensation, moaning in delight. I concentrated as hard as ever to make sure it all came off cleanly, and within minutes the sides and back of her hair were totally gone, left with only smooth, shiny scalp.

The small but stiff rim of flattop, only 1/2 inch long at most, expertly rose from this. It was a perfect cut, just what she wanted, but one I wished I hadn't done. I brushed the stray hairs off, knowing it was time to show her the finished cut. Instead of handing her the small mirror, I turned her to face the large mirror. "I only did what you asked," I said apologetically.

She looked shocked at her reflection, and reached up stunned fumbling her well manicured hands over nothing where once there had been so much. Then she touched the front ridge, perfectly straight and stiff, intrigued by it's staying power.

She tilted her head down, revealing the huge landing strip. She touched it also clumsily, feeling nothing but bare scalp and a trace of stubble. Her hands seemed to be shaking. "Show me the back," she said sans emotion. I handed her the hand mirror and turned her around. There was nothing to see because there was nothing there but smooth skin. She again nervously touched it with her hand. The full weight of what she had just done was now sinking in. I expected her to cry, or scream, or pass out in shock. I tried to remember my CPR.

I removed the cape from her shoulders snapping off the stray hairs. She stood up shaking, walking to her husband.

She walked to him slowly and he touched her head with his hand while she put her head on his shoulder. Then she looked up at him and they kissed a long, deep, sensuous, fantastic kiss. Then they both started laughing, just a bit at first and then deep and hard. Kim looked at her husband. "God you were great!"

Greg echoed back. "Not half as good as you! That whole shocked look at the end was Oscar material." I was dumbstruck. "Could someone please tell me what is going on?" They both looked at me and smiled. Then they laughed. Greg spoke up. "Tonight is our 10 year anniversary of the day we met.

It was in basic training at the Air Force Academy in the barber shop. I just had my hair cut into a flattop and she was next. She was all upset about girls getting preferential treatment and not having to get their hair cut like the guys. She sat down in a rage and told the guy to cut hers like mine, only shorter. We made a pact a long time ago on our 10th anniversary to duplicate our first meeting, and you got to be the barber.

The whole argument thing just helped us not chicken out. Neither of us had hair even close to this long the first time. Hers was just to her shoulders, while mine was maybe just over my ears. So this time was a bigger deal. It was more fun." Kim chimed in with a smile on her face. "It's only hair, it will grow back."

She rubbed her bald sides and back. " It will take a while, but it will." She walked up to me and kissed me on the cheek. "You are the best for putting up with us, and you give a great haircut too!" She rubbed the top of her head enthusiastically.

With that the two lovebirds left, arm in arm, taking turns rubbing each other's head, braving the cold winter air. It was now nearly an hour past close but I didn't care. I laughed to myself long and hard as I swept up the shop, and stashed a lock of both of their hair in a bag, then in a keepsake box filled with things only I understand.

Truly a remarkable evening!