… a middle-aged cop hauling in a young man by the shoulder. Sarge smiled to himself, this one should be good.
“What can I do for you Officer?” Sarge offered.
“Well it’s not what you can do for me, but for my son. I just don’t know what to do with him anymore.” The officer replied harshly.
“Well, why don’t you have him sit in the chair right there,” Sarge said pointing to his barber’s chair, “and we can discuss what you want to do. Sounds reasonable doesn’t it?”
“Yes, let’s do that. Peter, sit in the chair,” the cop said pushing the youth into the chair.
Peter sat sulkily but didn’t’ say anything.
Sarge and the officer stepped to the back of the shop, where they could keep an eye on the youth, but where he couldn’t hear their discussion.
“So, what’s the problem,” Sarge probed.
“Well, my son. He lacks discipline and respect for authority…” the officer paused. .
“Go on,” Sarge pushed.
“He keeps sneaking out at night and spray-painting. Last night he was finally arrested for vandalizing a sweet-old ladies’ home by throwing rocks at a window. I was able to get him out of jail, but he has to learn discipline. I brought him here to get haircut as a punishment.
Sarge saw what line of “suggestion” he could give, “You know, dealing with rebellious youth like this. Just giving him a haircut won’t be enough, though it will be the critical first step. He has to be under constant discipline and structure. Every second of his day should be planned without any deviation…. Now, have you ever considered a military school?”
The officers eyes widened slightly even under Sarge’s hypnotic suggestion, “No… I mean he may have his problems, but at heart he’s a good kid. And my wife made me agree when we divorced that I would never send him to boarding school, it’s part of the custody agreement. The best I could do was pull him out of school, to keep him away from those nasty friends of his.”
Hmmm, Sarge though, so sending him to military school wouldn’t be viable. Wouldn’t exactly do any good to have the wife take the youth’s custody for trying that. Well, he could still work with that. He was taking online classes…
“Well have you ever tried to have an at home boot-camp?”
“What on earth are you going on about. I have to work I can’t just stay home with him all the time.”
Though the changes were at first subtle, the officer slowly grew several inches in height. His muscles expanded to where his uniform looked like it was painted onto him, but still were able to accommodate his larger bulk. The fine wrinkles in his face disappeared and he regressed to look more like he was in his late 30s. His shoes morphed from what was essentially a black running shoe—a disgrace according to Sarge— to a thick black leather police boot that shone like mirrors and that tightly wrapped themselves around the officers new size 14 feet.
“No need for you to respond, I just need you to listen to what I am saying.” Sarge said and then looked the officer directly in the eyes, “you will become much more harsh on your son. You will ensure he is under constant discipline 24/7. He will continue to take online classes, but every other second of his time will be occupied. He will wear a uniform every hour of the day, he will do PT, military drill, and chores. You will give him a regimented and exacting schedule and he will follow it to the letter.”
“I’ll… think about it.” The officer replied.
Sarge decided to leave it at that for now, and just nodded, but paused and added, “and anyone caught for minor crimes—drug use, minor theft, you now—don’t arrest them, send them to me.”
“But sir,” the officer contested.
“Officer, we hardly need more people in jail sucking up valuable resources. We might as well make them into productive members of society, now doesn’t that make sense.”
“Yes,” the officer replied with a slightly glazed expression, “I will bring them to you.”
“Perfect,” Sarge replied. “Now, what haircut did you want for your son again?” Sarge asked more lightly.
The glassy expression on the officer’s face faded, “Give him one like yours, a high-n-tight, only much shorter. I need to teach him a lesson”
“An excellent choice.” Sarge smiled.
Sarge walked back to the chair where Peter was sitting and loomed about the moody teenager. “So are you going to sit still and not put up a fight or am I going to have to strap you down.”
“Screw you,” the youth muttered under his breath.
“What was that? Do you want to say that again?” Sarge threatened.
“Nothing, it was nothing,” he mumbled, “I’ll cooperate.”
“Good,” Sarge replied slyly.
He then opened up the drawer and brought out his favorite set of heavy duty clippers and clipped on a very small guard- 1/16 of an inch to be precise. The father did want it short.
Looking at the clippers the youth pushed himself up to rise but Sarge pushed him back hard and ordered, “Don’t move.”
The youth found himself unable to move at all anymore. Sarge then popped the guard off the clippers and put an even shorter one on- 1/32 of an inch. Now this would be a really short haircut, but it’s what he deserves.
He turns the chair around making sure the youth would see every second of this. Turning the clippers on he slowly drives them down the center of the youths heat. His hair was a quite light blonde color so it almost looked like there was nothing there. Just a light shadow. As he was buzzing the youths head to a uniform 1/32 of an inch he began to plant his programming for the son to have the discipline he was lacking.
“You have lacked discipline and respect for others, but no longer. You will treat everyone with courteousness and respect from now on. You will bear yourself with dignity and military bearing at all time. No slouching. You will always be properly groomed and dressed, according to what your father dictates. You will obey him in all things to the letter and without deviation.”
After the youth’s head was completely shorn he brought out a separate pair of clippers with much finer teeth—balding clippers they were called. He turned them on and a whining sound was produced. He then carefully began to shear the sides and back of the youths head completely. Only white “walls” were left. His scalp was very pale and his ears stuck out awkwardly.
By now the youth’s eyes were entirely out of focused and he was clearly entranced by Sarge’s words. Sarge continued, “It feels good and right to obey your father in all things. You will become exactly what your father wants you to be and deep inside you will know that this is how it should be.
Sarge finished up the haircut, by running the balding clippers over the sides of the heat all the way up to the crown once again, to ensure there was no hair left. By the end the youth was left with an extremely short high-n-tight. Totally bald on the sides with only the shorter length on the top. It was perfect, Sarge thought.
Sarge finishing his mental programming for the youth, after all, it was the father who would do the changes this time, not him, so it was much quicker than the last youth.
“Make sure you bring him in weekly to get touched up,” Sarge was curious to see what the father would do with his son, he had a feeling the officer would be more creative than he could be. He may have given him the guidance, but in this case he left the final choice up to the officer.
Before the father left, Sarge pulled out a velvet bag and gave him a stone from that bag that simultaneously looked like it had no color and was every color. Sarge whispered to the officer, “now you will know what to do with this” as he pressed the appropriate information into the officers head, “this will allow you to change anything of anyone, including behavior. The power will not be limited to your son, should you deem others appropriate targets. Any mental changes you make to anyone besides your son, who has been pre-programmed by me, will need to solidified by a visit to me within one week or they will begin to fall apart. You can direct people to come to my shop and I will get them all squared away”
The officer just nodded smartly once. Part of Sarge’s conditioning was to not question Sarge.
“Now pay the nice barber for the haircut,” the officer told his son.
Peter frowned, but slowly pulled out a $5 from his wallet.
“And tip,” the officer warned. The youth reluctantly but obediently brought out an extra $5 for tip.
“Now, let’s go,” the officer barked, mulling over what to do to ensure his son didn’t stray from the right path.
The youth nodded without argument, and then walked in front of the father to open the door for him. Good, Sarge thought. The officer then walked out first and the son gently closed the door behind him before following his father out of sight.
Sarge then started cleaning up the mass of hair that was on the floor. He really did need to get someone to do this for him, he mused to himself.