Unhaircut

Colin had always been an excellent hairdresser. Brilliant, and definitely not average. But things were about to change… Mrs. Higgins came in for a trim. “Just an inch off the ends, dear,” she’d said, her voice a warble. Colin, distracted by a particularly stubborn knot, snipped off what he thought was an inch. But when he combed it out, Mrs. Higgins’ hair was longer, not shorter.

Confused, he tried again, this time meticulously measuring two inches. Snip. The hair sprung back, two inches longer than before. He tried again, and again, each snip resulting in more hair, not less. By the time Mrs. Higgins left, her hair trailed behind her like a bridal train.

Word of Colin’s “miracle touch” spread like wildfire. Women, and even some men, flocked to his salon, eager to experience the inexplicable phenomenon. “Chop off six inches, Colin!” they’d cry, “I want Rapunzel hair!”

And Rapunzel hair they got. The once ordinary town of Little Hadleigh was transformed into a fairytale spectacle. Hair flowed down the high street like a river of silk and keratin. Women used their lengthy locks as skipping ropes, dog leashes, even impromptu washing lines. Men with flowing manes swung from lampposts, their hair acting as convenient grappling hooks.

Colin, initially thrilled by his newfound fame, soon grew weary. Everywhere he went, people would shout, “Colin! Climb up my hair!” Children would use his legs as climbing frames, their tiny hands tangling in his own increasingly long hair. He yearned for the days when a simple “short back and sides” was the most exciting request he received.

One day, a mysterious woman in a long, hooded cloak entered his salon. “I hear you have a gift,” she rasped, her voice like dry leaves rustling in the wind.

“It’s more of a curse,” Colin muttered, trying to untangle a woman’s hair from the ceiling fan.

The woman chuckled, a dry, brittle sound. “I can help you control it,” she said, “but it will come at a price.”

Desperate, Colin agreed. The woman revealed herself to be a centuries-old sorceress, cursed with eternally growing hair. She transferred the curse to Colin, but with a twist. He could now control the growth, making hair longer or shorter with a mere thought.

The sorceress, now with a sensible bob, skipped out of the salon, leaving Colin to his new reality. He could still give people the long hair they craved, but now he had the power to reverse it, to bring some semblance of normalcy back to Little Hadleigh.

However, Colin had learned his lesson. He started charging exorbitant prices for his services, and only worked on Tuesdays and Thursdays between 2 pm and 4 pm. He even introduced a strict “no climbing” policy. After all, he was a hairdresser, not a jungle gym.