It started with the electric buzzing, making the small boy cringe in the oversized seat. As the cold metal touched the nape of his neck, he squealed and twisted to look the devil in the face. Mama Bear pushed us forward, swearing him to be a good boy.
It resumed, the metal machine shedding away at his old, winter coat allowing it to fall underneath his shirt. The cape was too loose but any tighter he screamed he wouldn’t be able to breathe. He started to squirm again, raged about the skin crawling itch that was spreading across his back. Reacting quickly, warm air rushed out from the overly loud blowdryer hoping to remove any reminisce of small follicles that had stuck to his sweaty skin.
Hope had starred to fade but we sprayed cold water to his dirty hair. However his reaction had been alarming, seeming to be possessed almost, yelling as the water touched him. He had continued to lung forward whenever the shears got near his head.
Minutes passed but it had become too late, the boy had turned full monster, falling deeper into the chair. Kicking drawers and throwing combs, he hoped to scare us away. It was clearly Hell for him, not allowing anyone to console him. No lollipop could save that appointment. Nobody could have gotten close with the tools, all of his mane dripped in what might have been a mixture of sweat and water.
Mama Bear wasn’t hearing his calls, she had fallen into a trance, praising the child on his behavior and referring to him as a “good boy”.
Stop the horror, end the pain. The child was curled in the chair, stricken with grief. Finally, lead woman claims defeat for us, saying this cannot be completed. Mama Bear was shocked, not comprehending the results of that evening.
Though the child felt like he had finally won the war, Mama Bear realized her child was leaving looking like a complete idiot.
My final thought that night, “I just had the child from Hell in my salon.”
P.s. excuse my rough draft.