Haircut

Benny closed the door and slunk into a chair. He threw his head back and covered his face with his hands.

“Foiled by a haircut!” He called out to the room.

His hair had always been shaggy and fortunately grew very slowly. He didn’t think about dress codes in this private school also involving hair. He undid his tie and pulled off his sweater and laid them down on the table. He had invented imaginary parents and an aunt.  He had created birth certificates, facebook accounts, and family photographs. He made dinner, bought his own clothes, cleaned the bathroom regularly. He did a lot of things kids his age wouldn’t dream of doing and even things most adults couldn’t do. One thing that stood between him and an ivy league school, it certainly wasn’t grades. He could fix grades if he needed to but he probably wouldn’t need to. He just couldn’t cut his hair. It wasn’t that he’d lose all his strength or his super powers or anything like that, his hair refused to be cut. He hadn’t tried for a while maybe it would agree to a trim if he talked it into it, but he didn’t have a lot of faith in that idea. He unloaded files, wire cutters, and a few other things from his backpack. It was worth a try before he though up a religion that didn’t believe in cutting hair. He didn’t think that he’d pull off Sikh. The turban would cause him trouble.

He picked up the wire cutters and tin snips first and went to the bathroom. He lay newspaper out on the floor. He looked in the mirror and wished himself good luck. He grabbed a chunk behind his ear and cut with wire cutters.  The metal hit the ground. He grimaced. His hair had cut through the wire cutters like play dough. He held one handle in his hand and looked down. The two blades lay on the floor along with one handle that had been severed where first contact had been made. Part of the blades were scrunched where it had come in contact with a thicker section of hair. He sighed and tried the tin snips with the same results. He used the big clippers that were supposed to cut through pad locks and it just bounced off. He tried a saw and noticed a little dust on the floor but he wasn’t sure if that was from the blades or his hair.

Here’s an example of a Writing Practice session.  I did a little post spell check but otherwise here’s a raw session. No need to comment.  It’s supposed to be ugly. Feel free to do your own practice writing in the comments below! 

 

About the author

Carley Hibbert

I just finished writing my first novel The Villain's Assistant. I'm preparing to submit it to an interested publisher.

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