Jareth hadn’t had a haircut or shave since a barber cut him behind the ear. The very thought of blades approaching his head made him dizzy. Even electric razors made his skin crawl. They always made him think of those Flintstones clams with bees inside them–tiny stingers stabbing his face, little blades whizzing and whirring inside, burrowing through his beard in the hopes of sinking teeth into flesh.
Nope. No haircuts. No shaves. Never again.
But it was one thing to look like Robin Williams in Jumanji while you were outsourcing work from home, it was another to show up to the family reunion that way.
Jareth’s family reunions happened every five years. The previous year was only a few months after his barbershop disaster, so at the time he looked trendy, with his long hipster hair and reasonably lengthy beard. He no longer looked trendy. He looked like a ginger Gandalf.
He thought about biting the bullet and getting a haircut. He even walked into a barbershop once, but they turned him away when he asked about general anesthesia options. Or maybe he exited on his own after hearing the deafening scrape of scissors snipping and snipping, clippers buzzing, and he tried to cover his ears but he could feel the scar behind his left ear and it was too much and he didn’t remember much after that, except that he was standing on the other side of the parking lot, gasping for air.
Maybe he wouldn’t go to the reunion after all. He felt a flu coming on. Best stay in bed. Yes.
Day 247’s three random writing prompt categories were, “Shave and a haircut,” “Scar,” and, “Distant relatives.”
I used to be worried about hairdressers snipping my ear. I think it did happen once. Plus I have a big scar behind my left ear as well. Hmm.
I do trim my beard. Sometimes.