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Young Writer’s Camp

The Barber Shop

By: Caroline

 

           I work at a barber shop and I learn about all kinds of people, so I can read people very well. There’s my favorite, Mrs. Smith. She has seven kids, is 108, has no hair at all, (she comes to get her wig styled) and thinks the war is still going on...the Civil War. Everyone wonders when she’s going to die.

           Susan Hawkins is a middle-aged widow who can never decide on anything, not even her hair color.

           Bill Tecas is a baker who insists that his hair looks like a pastry. Once, he even asked me to dye one part red for his jelly-filled donuts. He has to raise 13 kids (a baker’s dozen) by himself.

           Kathleen Brock is a teenager in college and she has a different job and boyfriend everyday.

           Those are just the ones who say stuff. The other ones just sit quietly and read a magazine. That is, until Matthew came to town. Matthew Birch was a business man who no one knew anything about. He was a very mysterious character until last month.

 

                 Last month he came to me and said, “I need your help! This is a life and death matter-my life and death! Look, I know I don’t know you, but, you really need to help me!”

           “Why does it need to be my help and what kind of help do you need?”

“Their after me! I used to work for them, but I don’t anymore and now they want my head because they think I leaked information! They don’t hurt anyone who has a kid and your fresh out of beauty school and  your young enough to be my daughter!”

           “First of all, who is they and second of all, I’m 35 and I am not fresh out of beauty school!”

“Well, you look 21 and they and the mafia! If you don’t help me, I’m going to be dead in 2 days! Look lady, if you help me, I could pay you big. You’d be able to have a chain of barber shops!” Matthew yelled franticly.

           “Fine, but I better get my money Mr.!”

“Great! I’ll need  your name, number, and address. Here’s mine.” He handed me a piece of paper that looked like it had survived every war since the beginning of time. I found a piece of clean, white paper and gave him the information he needed.

           When I got home that night, there was a message on my machine. It was Matthew. “Hey Cynthia. Meet me at the corner of 5th and Nelle. Bye.”

           The next day, when I got there, Matthew was standing in front of a lousy excuse for a shack. He waved at me and motioned me over. I parked my car and walked over to him.

           As soon as I got in the shack, a long, black limo pulled up and thirteen large, muscular men in black started walking toward us. They were surprised to see me, but tried not show it.

           Behind the thirteen men was a boxy giant that was at least eight feet tall.

           They entered the shack and the apparent leader said, “Who’s the girl?”

“This is my daughter, Cynthia,” Matthew said nervously.

           “Matt,” said the leader, “You didn’t have a daughter two years ago. Where’d you find her?”

           “For your information, I work at a barber shop and you need a serious trim and a good wash. Is there a sink around here?” I asked as I looked around.

           “ Uh….no, but-”

“Well, then you’ll just have to come with me down to my shop.”

           “Fine, Vennie, stay here with our little friend, Matthew,” said the leader. Vennie must have been the giant because everyone else went with me.

           When we got to my barber shop, I sat the leader of the mafia in the chair and said, “I’m going to need everyone’s coats because the capes are in the wash. Okay, thank you very much. Now, lean back and– there, that’s great,” I said in my sweetest voice.

           While I was washing his hair, I asked him questions. “What was your name again?”

           “Bennie. This is Lennie, Carlos, Ernie, Joey, Nick, Theo, and the rest.”

“Oh. What’s it like being in the mafia?” I asked.

           “It’s– I’m not giving you information!”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry. What are you going to do to Matthew?”

           “Well, we haven’t decided, but we’re probably just going to beat him around a little since he didn’t spill much.”

           “That sounds horrible. Are you sure it was Matthew who leaked information? You wouldn’t want to hurt and innocent man would you?" There was that sweet voice again.

           “Of course it was Matthew because- w-w-well….it just is! I mean, he was the only one who– al-al-alright. I don’t know for sure it was Matthew, but no one else would have told the cops!”

           “The police aren’t dumb. They could have figured it out on their own! You would hurt an innocent man!” I was yelling now. I didn’t know Matthew, but killing an innocent man is wrong. I wasn’t going to say anything else.

           I finished the hair cut and yelled, “Free of Charge!” as I ran out the door. I got in my car and was headed toward the shack while the mafia was still brushing the hair of their coats.

           I got to the shack and Matthew was inside chatting with Vennie when he turned a gave me a big, phony, grin. He slowly inched toward the door keeping up with the conversation at the same time.

           When Matthew reached the door, he flew out and into my car. Vennie was trying to get out the door, but had to bend down and walk sideways through it. “Drive!” Matthew screamed. I pressed the gas pedal and flew out of the deserted parking lot. “Where are we going?” I asked. “ To your shop. It had a video camera, right?” he replied.

           “Yes! It’s the state law!”

           When we got there, Matthew ran in and removed the tape in the video camera. He got back in the car and we went to the police station. Matthew barged in out of breath and yelled, “Help! The mafia’s after us!”

           “Whoa! Slow down. The mafia’s after you?” asked one cop with ugly burgundy pants.

           “Yes! This tape has a confession and we can tell you where they are!”

“Well, calm down and we will watch the tape,” said the cop.

           We followed the cop into a room with a TV and a few chairs. Matthew, the officer, and I sat down and we watched the tape. The officer asked us where they were and took us there in his police car. Several other officers followed.

           We arrived at Matthew’s house and there was a long, black limousine in front. Everyone in the mafia was arrested and sentenced to prison. Matthew didn’t die, I got my chain of barber shops and made enough money to buy the officer that helped us some better pants. Mrs. Smith didn’t come anymore because Vennie was her grandson, but I think it was really because she lost her wig. I didn’t have anymore run-ins with the mafia and so I was happy. Matthew became a regular and has yet to stop thanking me for saving his life, but my days of saving lives are over….unless someone asks nicely.

 

The End

 

 

Blue

 

Blue is the color of the sea and the sky. It is the color of the hottest flames and the coldest snow. The Blues are a types of music and how you feel when you are lonely or sad. Blue is a color of our patriotic flag. Every shade of blue has a different feeling…...happy or sad, good or bad, tired or mad, anything You want to be.

 

By: Caroline Hamilton

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