Fred the Freaky Barber





                                                  A tale to tell

“This here room is awf’ly small,” The girl said conversationally. The padded room was no larger than your average asylum room, which may or may not be four by eight in some sort of measurement of some sort.

The walls were high, and padded, as padded rooms tend to be, with a single barred window (that looked as though it might have been broken a time before) that over looked the yard. She shuffled over to the window.

“What a view,” She whistled, glanced down, and waving to the no one down there. The view was spectacular; the lawn was bright green with grass, and spotted with pretty coloured flowers that seemed to go on forever, and to top it off it was slightly hilly. A rare sight in Kansas, indeed. “Makes up for havin’ to be in such a crammed space now doesn’t-“

She hadn’t noticed Fred had been creeping up on her, until his arm crossed over her chest.

“-it?” She jolted, but Fred held her steady. He took his free hand, and removed her hat from the brushy mane of hair on her head, resulting in instant dismay.

“Whut in the name of concord grapes do you think ya doin’?!” Was her out burst, but Fred took no notice of it.

“I just want to see your hair,” He told her, his words eerily elongated, though he thought it was rather soothing. Fred placed her hat on the floor beside them. Fred lost his grip on her momentarily, for she made a dive for her hat. She clenched the rim of her hat, and attempted to roll to safety, but that was is vain, for Fred stopped her by placing a knee on her back, leaning over her, his razor out.

“Now, now, let’s not squirm,” Fred pressed the tiny green button, starting up his red terror, “I don’t want to nick you.”

                                               Vrrrrrn

The first cut came, not a deep one, as she still was squirming, but after the first pass, she went still, allowing (much to Fred’s delight) him work with out heed.

Again and again, the shears came down. Her hair went with it, so easily, like cutting through water. Though, cutting through water with an electric razor is a dangerous and pointless tasks, Fred would much rather be cutting hair.

And oh, how he did cut! Piece after piece, lock after lock of glorious mangled brown hair fell to the floor until the top of her head was much like a clear cut forest. Only then did Fred turn off his razor, and lift his knee off her back.

He stood and watched her scrambled to the far side of the little room, hat clenched in her hands. She placed it firmly on her now, hairless skull, giving Fred a look of curiosity and fear, as though she wasn’t sure what to expect next, but Fred was done. He was considering in just kicking her out of his room, when she said; “That’s it?”

Fred looked at her with a curious gaze, what had she been expecting? He sat down on the other side of the room, across from her, his head tilted to the side.

They sat there, each considering the other, waiting for the other to talk. A silence such as this could never be mimicked or met, as it was a silence thick with loud, the loudness of their minds.

Finally, after many moments of contemplation, Fred asked, “What is it?”

“That,” She insisted, drawing her legs and pulling her arms close to her, “You’re not gunna chop my limps off, are ya, ‘cause I’m rather attached to ‘em.”

“Chop them off?” Fred looked as though he was considering this, but shook his head slowly after awhile. No, he wasn’t planning to do anything of the sort. How queer that she even thought of that, “My name is Fred.”

She adjusted her hat, looking a little more relieved than before, “Well, Fred, I don’t suppose you did any harm,” She turned her hat around, until it faced the right way, satisfied with it, she continued, “Look! Now my hat fits right again.” She took her attention off her hat, and gave Fred a little half smile, “I’m Delorus.”

“Delorus,” He repeated, looking thoughtful. What he was thinking about, I don’t rightly know, and if you ask Fred, I’m not sure he would tell you, “a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, I think,” Delorus replied, stretching out a leg, now that she knew (or hoped she knew) it be safe. She was still watching Fred wearily, but this paranoia was sure to fade away like many things are sure to do.

“What brings your...” He wasn’t sure how to address her, or her group, which she had to have come from, since he had never seen her around here before.

“Ah!” She exclaimed dramatically, stretching out her other leg, “Well, that there is whut happens when you stick a whole mess of fire eaters in a very flammable building.” Delorus gave a sort of half smile, apparently incapable of many facial expressions, as it looked strained, this sort of, companionship. “Whut about ya self?”

“Me?” Fred asked, leaning towards her, “...It’s a rather long tale.” A tale as long as his smile, for it stretched from side to side, showing off all the teeth in his skull.

“Well, I have a rather long time to be here,” She replied, her face settling back down, bright blue eyes locked on Fred. He wasn’t going to get out of this Scott free, was he?

Fred gave her a loud sigh, smiling wistfully. What a silly little creature...

It was Fred’s birthday, his sixth birthday to be precise, and he longed to open his presents. But, alas! He had to wait for his Aunt and Uncle to arrive. They lived far out of town, and took them awhile to get in, but a six year olds attention span would hardly allow for that.

It seemed forever before his Aunt Murielle, and his Uncle Eustace arrived, but when they did, he could finally open his gifts! There was not a happier boy around than Fred that day, as he tore open his gifts.


                                It was a day I'd not forget

But out of all his gifts, he had a favorite, being a bright red handheld razor (His father was a barber, and felt a swelling sense of pride as his son opened his gift), or it was his favorite, until Aunt Murielle surprised him with something that filled his heart with glee.


                        the day that I first met my pet.

He unwrapped the paper to reveal a tiny cage with an even tinnier hamster in it. His fur was the softest of pinks, and his eyes were the bluest of blues. He was nibbling a little bit of his bedding as Fred held the cage to his chest.

His mother, with an amazing amount of blond hair she had passed on to her son, gave a giggle, “Oh, Fred, you’ve always wanted a pet!”

“Take good care of it, son-“His father started, a stringy looking man with green eyes. He didn’t have the chance to finish what he was saying, as his son darted across the room to hug his Aunt tightly. She officially became his favorite that day.


                            Oh! What a lovely gift to get.

The family members left after cake and food, or visa versa, as the case may be. And soon Fred soon retired to his room, with gifts in arms. His room was decorated like any little kid’s room was- messily and bright. He placed his mound of his (which he could hardly see over) on his unmade bed. He dug around until he extracted a cage, and smiled- a sweet wide smile.


                                I'd never felt so...naughty.

He then unhooked the tiny latch that held the hamster in its cage, and reached in. The fuzzy rodent squeeked loudly, moving to the back of the cage. But, alas, the hamster found itself in the hand of Fred. He pulled it out, scratching its head lightly.


               My fuzzy friend is what he was, this darling little ball of fuzz.
                              And, oh, such fuzz, such fuzz! It does

Yes, his fur was so soft and nice against the skin of his hand. He took the hamster and rubbed it against his face, he felt the creature squirm, and giggled. It tickled. Fred gave a small giggle, as he lifted the hamster up so they could look each in the eye.


                                   demand that I be...naughty.

He took out his shiny new razor from the pile of joy on his bed. His free hand caressed the red razor, as the smile enlarged, and seemed to grow with every passing second, until it could no longer grow, least it fly off his face. With two fingers, Fred held the adorable creature down on his tiny palm, fingers out.


         He looked at me, his fetching eyes, and fetching fur did hypnotize.
                      I filled with joy, I filled with sighs.

Fred’s eyes did gleam with joy, and he did give a sigh. But that’s not all he was doing…As the creature looked up him pleading with his very blue eyes, it was as though it could tell…as though it knew what was going to happen next.



                             And that's when I got...naughty.

Fred turned the razor on, bringing it down on the poor little animal. Again, again, and again, he cut, trimmed, slashed, and razed until the animal was bald and shivering in the palm of his hand. Still grinning, near manically, he shuffled through the fallen hair of his pet, and replaced it in its cage.

The hamster looked mad at him, as Fred shifted to the other side of the room, staring at his newness. The young Fred faded into the old Fred, who was looking at Delorus in the very same manner he had once looked at his hamster.

“If you don’t want ta tell me,” She said, sounding uneasy. Fred seemed to have floated into his own little word, and yet, he seemed to be right there. How that was possible…

“Oh, no,” Fred replied, “No, I mean I do,” again he paused, “but I think you should be first.” Yes, that seemed like an appropriate answer. He could gather his thoughts, while she blathered on about herself.

“Hm, I suppose ladies do go first after all,” Delorus gave him her sweetest half smile, gathering her thoughts as well, but unlike Fred, she was a bit quicker. She leaned her head against the padded white wall, closing her eyes. “I once had a friend, ya’ know the kind, the ones you stick to like glue-“

Fred nodded, in his own thoughts, half listening. He always had been very good at listening and thinking at the same time.

Her story went one for at least an hour; go on about things that seemed to have little or no purpose for her tale (Like the horse isn’t native animal to the Down Under). But what Fred had gathered was that, at one time, she had a boyfriend named Daire Rainyday, who went to Clown collage, and she followed him, even though he told her no. They started a circus together, with her as the ringmaster. At some point, she had stood up, and was whirling her purple cladded arms around.

“Together! We were together for such a long- away! Away!” She snarled, looking slightly demented. Her blue eyes bulging, “Him and her! They! RRRRrrrr….” Panting, she flopped back down, holding her head as though it gave her pain.

This sudden climax and fall caused Fred to be shaken from his thoughts. He stood up, looking serious, and looked down at her. Then, with an almost serene sound in his voice, he said; “Calm down, you’ll get grey hairs.”

Delorus relaxes her fingers, moving them down her face slowly. A loud bonging bell cried throughout the mad house, like many of the cries of the incumbents within. Fred, thankfully, was never affected like some of his fellow inmates.

“Was that…?”

“That’s the dinner bell,” Fred smiled, as he pulled the girl up. She seemed unable to keep balance, and would wobble and wiggled as she walked beside him. The two stepped out into the hallway, with the rest of the hungry insane.

Fred let his thoughts lapsed back into memories as his new friend hummed what sounded like ‘O, my darling’, that song…with the banjo.

Young Fred came home from school that day with a smile on his face. He wanted to see how the hamster turned out, but as he crossed the threshold of his home, he bumped full face into his mother. She looked a little angry.

“Fred,” She scolded, in her Scottish drawl, “How could you?”

He looked confused up at her, how could he what now? Fred’s eyes widened with surprise when she pulled out his tiny bald hamster from the pocket of her apron.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, confused more then ever, “Is it sick?” To this, his mother replied with a scowl. She dragged him over to his father, or that’s how he remember it. Maybe it was later…Anywho…

His father took him a side, handing the hamster to him. The little creature squirmed in fear as he took it in his hand. Fred looked up at the tall figure of his father, waiting to be told what was going on; he still didn’t know what was wrong.

“Fred,” His father said firmly, “I want you to go to your room and think about what you did. You can’t be shaving poor defenseless animals like that, you know.”

“Why is that?” His son puzzled, his green eyes full of confusion.

His father sighed, “Because, Fred, it’s naughty.”