City of IF

[Flaw]

Prologue

I sometimes wonder what it would feel like to slice my customers’ throats open and watch their blood just run down their chest as they make sounds like something is stuck in whatever is left of their trachea. Like in the movies. The victim sits down in the chair, a few seconds later his whole face is covered in white, frothing shaving cream with an over sized bib placed over him. I come up behind him, and roughly tilt his head back.

“For a closer shave,” I would say. I’d bring up the straight razor. It looks more like a giant switch blade used for street fights or in those weapon auctions. The razor is more six inches long and neatly folds into the wood and steel handle.

He would shiver as the cool touch of the edge would graze his skin as it sliced through the white foam and the thick hairs that covered his cheek. My left hand would be on his shoulder, tightening in a reassuring squeeze.

The cream would cover the cutting edge and my fingers as I guided my instrument along its course. Then, the razor would dip suddenly, painfully. The edge would slice in his cheek, digging into the meat and bone. Red, warm, thick liquid would pour out in a never ending flow. The white cream would suddenly become scarlet and my hand would look like they were inside out. All red, no skin to see.

Screams would come out of his throat like a runaway train going for a no hold barred crash course. Then, my weapon would cut across his jugular slowly, a sharp ship chugging through icy waters. God, I can feel myself almost doing it right here and now as I pull Mr. Conigan’s head back. He has his eyes clothes. I can already see them snapping open in horror and pain.

My razor dips towards his cheek and smoothly cuts away at the beard and the foam. In a few minutes, he looks five years younger and no longer resembles a sharply dressed hobo. He thanks me and hands me a ten.

“Keep the change,” he says and walks out.

I stare at his receding form out the large window, the ten in my right hand and the straight razor hanging loosely in my right.

Shit. I watch too much movies.

[Flaw]

I. Customers

“’Ey Danny, did you finish off Conigan?”

Mr. Mathews’ voice is old and grating, just like his features. I love the old bastard anyways. I couldn’t kill him, not intentionally.

“Yes, I did.”

My employer’s form, at first a shadow against the back room’s wall, appears as he hobbles towards me. I smile as his wooden soled shoes click-clack against the black and white tiled floor. I had recently swept so no hair tried to impede his tiresome journey.

“I hate that man,” he mutters, the heavy wrinkles around his mouth bunching up as his lips come together and pull apart.

“Why?” I know why. I don’t need to ask. Yet I do anyways. Just to keep the room from going silent. I look outdoors and watch a pair of joggers slowly make their way across our booth window. They are two girls and I cock my head to the side as I examine them.

Both are pretty. “Hot” as Jeremy would say. I can’t help but let my eyes wander from their breasts to their butt. Jeremy would have been out the door in an instant in his effort to get their phone numbers. Would have is the key word. Jeremy can’t do shit now that he’s dead. Died a virgin too, poor bastard. Doesn’t stop him from dropping by to say hello.

The two girls see me and giggle. One waves, my arm refuses to respond in a like manner. I don’t care much anyways. The waving girl frowns and lets her arm fall. I can hear her think, “Whatever. What a loser.”

I turn away and toss the folded straight razor into a tub of warm water. I watch the flecks of foam melt off the handle and rise to the surface. My hands brush against my khakis and I glance out the window again. Mr. Mathews’ is still rattling about Conigan.

It’s sunny. A nice day. I’m surprised the sun can peer over the tall buildings that seem to usually block its light. The sky is blue and a few pearly white clouds fluff it up. I think I’ll go for a walk when my shift ends. I glance at the clock. It’s almost 12. Lunch break happens in ten minutes.

“You going to take a break?”

“For lunch? Yes.”

Mr. Mathews grunts and fumbles around for his apron. His hands shake when he slips it on and ties the back. Most would be scared at the thought of him handling a blade or even a shielded shaver. But once his hands touched his tools, they never moved unless he wanted them too.

I examine myself in the mirror. I’m dressed professionally I suppose. Black khakis with a dark silver dress shirt on. It’s neatly tucked in and one button is undone at the very top. No tie of course. I hate ties.

The sleeves are rolled up to my elbows, revealing hardened forearms. My shoes shine from the thin coat of wax I gave them. Mr. Mathew’s always required his workers to dress like this. Girls got to wear jeans though, but no girls I knew worked at a Barber shop.

I guess I’m good looking. Jeremy used to always complain how the girls would come up to me and flirt while he always had to go to them. I didn’t care really. I usually got brushed off as a jerk, which seemed to put my friend in a laughing state of mind. I eye myself for the last time. I looked like a mafia don or one of those models in Italian suit magazines.

“Hey old man, you cutting?”

The voice comes the same time the door chimes. I slowly turn around and three customers saunter in. One boy, two girls. All good looking.

I take them in. The boy is the macho, self absorbed preppy type. I can tell all this by his superior smile, the way he confidently leans to the right with his hands on his hips. His American Eagle polo shirt goes over his designer jeans.

The collar is popped up. Haven’t seen that in awhile. A whisper of a beard decorates a strong chin and deep blue eyes glare at Mr. Mathews in contemptuous annoyance. A real ladies man. I then examine his head. His hair is a bit long on the sides and back.

The girls are the same way. Skin tight jeans that showed off their lower assets with low cut shirts from Guess that reveal some ample cleavage. They look like twins in the clothing department but in the facial features are completely different.

Their hair falls neatly past their shoulders but the first in the pink shirt is beautiful. Shapely chin, dainty nose, and awe inspiring eyes. The other seems bland compared to her with the black hair with blonde streaks and the lip piercing that’s supposed to be cute.

Enough descriptions.

“Old man!!!” Ladies Man’s voice rises in annoyance while Blond sighs and checks her nails. Pink is examining me with some interest.

I glance at Mr. Mathews. He’s reading. I’m to take this one.

“Over here,” I say.

“Finally someone answers.” His voice is low, most would think it’s sexy, I think it’s annoying.

“Mr. Mathews is a bit out of it today,” I explain dutifully.

I guide him to the empty chair with my free hand while I pull out the straight razor with my other. “What will it be?”

Ladies Man plops down onto his seat pompously and leans back accordingly. “Cut it all off.”

I raise an eyebrow. This guy wouldn’t look good bald. Blond giggles and puts a petite hand over her plump lips. Pink sighs and looks out the window and watches two kids ride their bicycles past us.

“All?”

“I didn’t stutter,” he says gruffly. “Cut it all off.”

“Maybe that isn’t such a good idea,” I say, trying to help. “You’re head shape…isn’t good for the bald look.”

This wounds him. “What do you mean?” There’s an edge to his voice.

“You head is cubed.”

Pink laughs out loud and I could hear Mr. Mathews offer a faint snicker.

“Goddammit, just shave my head!” Pink’s laugh was the knife against his pride.

I raise my hands in defeat. “All right all right.”

I dig in the drawers and pull out my tools. Minutes later, Ladies Man is completely bald. The light glances of his white scalp and I grimace. I was right, he doesn’t look good bald.

“Maybe you should wear a hat, George,” Blond laughs.

“Whatever, Jessica,” George says.

“Eliza what do you think?”

Eliza adjusts her pink shirt and stares at George for a few seconds. “Wear a hat.”

“Fuck you,” the customer mutters. He slides off his seat and hands me a ten. I take it to the register and hand him two dollars change.

“Bye, come again.” I say the ‘bye’ part to them all as they go towards the exit. I direct the second part to Eliza. She offers a smile and walks away with her friends. I watch her leave and something stirs in my chest, along with something in my pants. She has a nice butt too. I would have to see her again, there weren’t many girls that struck me as she did. I laugh, I had known her for a total of fifteen minutes.

Mr. Mathew’s chuckles. “Take a cold shower, Danny.”

[Chinaren]

Nice one Floor. Though you need to post a warning at the top of your chapters about the content.

And welcome to IF, if I haven't said that already.